CHAUNCEY  WETMORE  WELLS 

1872-1933 


This  book  belonged  to  Chauncey  Wetmore  Wells.  He  taught  in 
Yale  College,  of  which  he  was  a  graduate,  from  1897  to  1901,  and 
from  1901  to  1933  at  this  University. 

Chauncey  Wells  was,  essentially,  a  scholar.  The  range  of  his  read 
ing  was  wide,  the  breadth  of  his  literary  sympathy  as  uncommon 
as  the  breadth  of  his  human  sympathy.  He  was  less  concerned 
with  the  collection  of  facts  than  with  meditation  upon  their  sig 
nificance.  His  distinctive  power  lay  in  his  ability  to  give  to  his 
students  a  subtle  perception  of  the  inner  implications  of  form, 
of  manners,  of  taste,  of  the  really  disciplined  and  discriminating 
mind.  And  this  perception  appeared  not  only  in  his  thinking  and 
teaching  but  also  in  all  his  relations  with  books  and  with  men. 


C. 


Previous    Books  by  ARTHUR   COLTON 

The    Belted    Seas 

I2mo.     $1.50 

A  story  of  the  wild  voyages  of  the  irrepressible 
Captain  Buckingham  in  Southern  seas.  Not  the 
least  attractive  of  its  features  are  the  occasional 
snatches  of  verse. 

"Colton  always  has  something  to  say  ...  a  sailor's 
yarn  spun  in  an  old  tavern  on  Long  Island  to  a  company 
worthy  of  Dickens."— Life. 

"A  humorist,  spontaneous  and  demure  .  „  .  droll  all 
through."— New  York  Tribune. 

"  The  best  thing  about  these  stories  is  that  they  are  told 
just  as  they  happened-at  least  so  it  seems.  It  seems  to 
be  the  old  sea  captain  talking  ratf.her  than  a  literary  man 
writing,  to  produce  which  illusion  is,  of  course,  the  per 
fection  of  literary  art."— New  York  Globe. 

Port   Argent 

I2mo.     $1.50 

A  romance  of  a  few  weeks  in  an  Ohio  city 
"  with  growing  pains." 

"A  story  of  breathless  events  and  of  remarkable  con 
centration." — Critic. 

"Arthur  Colton  is  a  writer  with  a  remarkably  indi 
vidual  outlook."— Life. 

"A  novel  which  has  a  fine  literary  flavor  and  unusual 
analytic  depth.  .  .  The  book  is  compelling  and  has  an 
extraordinary  understanding  of  social  dynamics."— 
Chicago  Record- Herald. 


Tioba 

i2mo.     $1.25 

Mr.  Colton  here  depicts  a  gallery  of  very  varied 
Americans.  Tioba  was  a  mountain  which  meant 
well  but  was  mistaken. 

"  He  is  always  the  artist  observer,  adding  stroke  upon 
stroke  with  the  surest  of  sure  pens,  ...  an  author  who 
recalls  the  old  traditions  that  there  were  once  such  things 
as  good  writing  and  good  story-telling." — Bookman. 


Henry    Holt    and    Company 

Publishers  New  York 


The   Cruise  of  the 
Violetta 


BY 

ARTHUR    COLTON 

A 


NEW   YORK 
HENRY    HOLT   AND    COMPANY 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

Published  September,  iqob 


IN  MEMORIAM 


Dedicated  to 
HARRY  L.   PANGBORN 

and 
GEORGIA  W.   PANGBORN 


863715 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     DR.  ULSWATER i 

II.     MRS.  MINK 7 

III.  AND  THE  TWENTY  PATRIOTS         .        .  17 

IV.  THE  TROPIC  AND  THE  TEMPERATE        .  32 
V.     FIRST     DOCUMENT.      DR.    ULSWATER'S 

NARRATIVE  :  FIRST  ADVENTURE         .  37 

VI.     SECOND  ADVENTURE       ....  45 

VII.     THIRD  ADVENTURE         ....  57 

VIII.     PROFESSOR  SIMPSON  AGAIN    ...  64 

IX.     CONCLUSION  OF  DR.  ULSWATER'S  FIRST 

MANUSCRIPT 69 

X.     SECOND   DOCUMENT.     DR.    ULSWATER'S 

NARRATIVE  CONTINUES  :  SUSANNAH     .  75 

XI.     RAM  NAD 86 

XII.     RAM  NAD,  CONTINUED  ....  95 

XIII.  CONCLUSION   OF  DR.  ULSWATER'S  SEC 

OND  MANUSCRIPT         .        .        .        .103 

XIV.  DR.      ULSWATER'S     NARRATIVE     CON 

TINUES  :  THE  ISLAND  OF  LUA    .        .  108 
XV.     SADLER    .        .        .        .        .        .        .112 

XVI.     AT  THE  PALACE 126 

XVII.     MRS.  ULSWATER  TAKES  ACTION   .        .  133 
XVIII.     CONCLUSION  OF  DR.  ULSWATER'S  THIRD 

MANUSCRIPT 143 

vii 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.     DR.    ULSWATER'S    NARRATIVE    CON 
TINUES  :   THE  MYSTERY  OF  GEOR- 
GIANA  AND  DOLORES       .        .        .146 
XX.    THE    BALLAD    OF    GEORGIANA    AND 

DOLORES 154 

XXI.     SUSANNAH  AND  RAM  NAD  .        .        .     159 
XXII.     CONCLUSION     OF     DR.      ULSWATER'S 

LAST  MANUSCRIPT   .        .        .        .172 

XXIII.  I     RESUME    THE     NARRATIVE.      THE 

PORTATE  ULTIMATUM      .        .        .176 

XXIV.  THE  ARREST 187 

XXV.    MRS.  ULSWATER'S  INSURRECTION        .     196 

XXVI.  THE  TRUCE 204 

XXVII.  ON  BOARD  THE  VIOLETTA          .        .     212 

XXVIII.  HANNAH  ATKINS          .        .        .        .220 

XXIX.  MR.  JAMISON 231 

XXX.  MR.  DORCAS 242 

XXXI.  SUSANNAH— END  OF  THE  VOYAGE  OF 

THE  VIOLETTA          .        .        .        .253 

XXXII.  ZIONVILLE 266 

XXXIII.  WILLIAM  C.  JONES  AND  LOUISA         .     275 

XXXIV.  AMBASSADORS  FROM  ZIONVILLE   .        .    288 
XXXV.  THE  END 303 


THE    CRUISE    OF   THE 
VIOLETTA 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE 
VIOLETTA 


CHAPTER  I 
2>r.  THtewater 

IN  the  Fall  of  the  year  when  Krakatoa 
blew  its  head  off  in  the  East  Indies, 
and  sent  its  dust  around  the  world,  I  fell 
sick  of  a  fever  in  the  city  of  Portate,  which 
is  on  the  west  coast  of  South  America. 
Portate  had  the  latest  brand  of  municipal 
enterprise  and  the  oldest  brand  of  fever. 
But  they  call  any  kind  of  sickness  a  fever 
there,  to  save  trouble,  and  bury  the  alien  with 
as  little  trouble  as  possible.  I  started  for 
home,  and  came  as  far  as  Nassau,  which  is  a 
town  in  the  Bahamas.  There,  a  wasted  and 
dismal  shape,  I  somehow  fell  into  the  hands 
of  one  Dr.  Ulswater,  who  tended  and  medi- 


.  V"  1  !-.:Pr.«:  Ulswater 


C'ined'me  fcUriiifo  Hie  world  of  sunlight  and 
other  interesting  objects. 

Nassau  runs  up  the  side  of  a  bluff  and 
overlooks  a  blue  and  dimpled  harbour. 
Dr.  Ulswater  at  last  began  to  take  me  with 
him,  to  lie  on  the  rocks  and  watch  him 
search  in  the  harbour  shoals  for  small  cuttle 
fish.  He  used  a  three-pronged  spear  to  stir 
them  out  of  their  lairs,  and  a  long  knife  to 
put  into  their  vital  points  with  skilful  sur 
gery.  They  waved  and  slapped  their  wild 
blistered  arms  around  his  neck  and  shoul 
ders,  while  he  poked  placidly  into  their  vital 
ity.  So,  being  entertained  and  happy,  I 
recovered  from  yellow  fever. 

By  that  time  my  handsome  name,  given 
by  parents  who  recognised  my  merits, 
"Christopher  Kirby,"  had  come  down 
handily  in  Dr.  Ulswater's  usage  to  "Kit," 
and  we  loved  each  other  as  two  men  can  who 
are  to  each  other  a  perpetual  entertainment. 

Dr.  Ulswater  was  a  large,  bushy  man  in 
the  prime  of  a  varied  life.  Born  an  Amer- 


Dr.  Ulswater 


ican,  he  had  studied  in  German  universities, 
practised  medicine  in  Italy,  and  afterward  in 
Ceylon.  One  of  his  hobbies  was  South- 
American  archaeology.  He  owned  a  silver 
mine  in  Nevada,  and  kept  a  sort  of  residence 
in  New  York  at  this  time,  and  was  collect 
ing  specimens  for  a  New  England  museum. 
So  that  he  was  what  you  might  call  a  dis 
tributed  man,  for  he  had  been  in  most 
countries  of  the  globe;  yet  he  was  not  a 
"globe-trotter,"  but  rather  a  floater, — in  a 
manner  resembling  sea-weed,  that  drifts 
from  place  to  place,  but,  wherever  it  drifts 
or  clings,  is  tranquil  and  accommodating. 
He  seemed  to  me  suitable  to  the  tropics  and 
their  seas, — large,  easy,  and  warm  of  body ; 
his  learning  like  the  sea,  mysterious  and 
bottomless;  his  mind  luxuriously  fertile,  but 
somewhat  ungoverned.  His  idioms  were 
mixed,  his  conversations  opalescent;  his 
criticism  of  himself  was  that  he  had  not 
personality  enough. 

"No,  my  dear,"  he  said,  wrapping  a  dead 


Dr.  Ulswater 


cuttlefish  up  neatly  in  its  own  arms,  "I  am 
like  a  cuttlefish  whose  vital  point  is  loose. 
You  are  an  ignorant  person,  with  preposses 
sions  beyond  belief,  and  absurd  deferences 
for  clothing  and  cleanliness;  but  you  have 
personality  and  entertaining  virtues.  There 
fore  I  will  let  you  smoke  two  cigars  to-night 
instead  of  one,  and  to-morrow  maybe  three, 
for  your  sickness  is  becoming  an  hypocrisy." 
Then  we  went  over  the  rocks  to  our  boat 
and  the  sulky  sleepy  negro  boatman,  the 
doctor  with  his  flabby  bundled  cuttlefish, 
and  I  with  a  basket  full  of  coral  and  conch- 
shells.  The  boatman  rowed  us  out  over  a 
sea  garden  with  submerged  coral  grottos; 
pink  and  white  coral,  branching  and  the 
"brain"  coral,  sea-fans  and  purple  sea- 
feathers,  coral  shrubs,  coral  in  shelving 
masses;  also  sponges,  and  green  hanging 
moss,  and  yellow,  emerald,  and  scarlet  fish, 
silver,  satin,  ringed,  fringed,  spotted; — all 
deep  beneath  in  their  liquid,  deluding  atmos 
phere, — a  cold  vision,  outlandish,  brilliant, 


Dr.  Ulswater 


and  grotesque,  over  which  we  floated  and 
looked  down. 

"Hypocrisy,  pretence,  illusion!"  went  on 
Dr.  Ulswater.  "Yet  we  attach  to  these 
words  a  meaning  of  praise  or  condemnation 
which  begs  the  question.  The  personality 
is  all,  the  point  of  view.  To  observe  an 
alcyonoid  polyp  through  thirty  feet  of 
water,  an  ineffable  vision !  or  under  a  micro 
scope  which  pronounces  the  ineffable  vision 
hypocrisy,  pretence,  illusion! — in  which  is 
there  more  truth?  Is  not  my  hypocrisy  an 
intimate  truth  of  me?  Hanged  if  I  know! 
There  is  a  new  yacht  in  the  harbour.  We 
will  go  to  it." 

And  we  moved  across  the  calm  glassy 
harbour  toward  the  long  white  steam  yacht. 

It  was  a  handsome  sea-going  vessel.  Its 
brasses  glistened  in  the  afternoon  sunlight. 
Violetta  was  its  gilt-lettered  name.  Sailors 
were  busy  forward,  and  a  striped  awning 
was  over  the  after-deck.  As  we  drew  near, 
a  woman  stood  up  under  the  awning  and 


Dr.  Ulswater 


came  over  to  the  rail ;  she  had  some  knitting 
in  her  hands.  I  asked  if  we  might  come 
aboard,  and  the  doctor  grumbled  at  me  in 
disgust, — something  about  "frizzle-brained 
women." 

"Of  course  you  can,"  she  said,  decisively. 
"Wait  till  they  bring  the  steps,"  and  she  dis 
appeared. 

"Ha!"  he  said,  "steps!  And  a  Middle 
West  accent!  Very  good." 

We  went  aboard,  leaving  the  negro  in  his 
boat,  and  under  the  striped  awning  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Mink  and  a  stout, 
blond-bearded  sailing-master,  Captain  Jan- 
sen. 


CHAPTER  II 
flfcrs. 


MRS.  MINK  was  a  pleasant  looking 
woman,  though  somewhat  thin,  and 
with  sharp  gray  eyes.  She  wore  a  plain, 
neat  black  dress,  such  as  a  self-respecting 
woman  might  wear  to  church  in  some  small 
inland  city.  A  large  flowered  rug  covered 
the  deck,  a  round  mahogany  table  in  the 
middle  of  it.  There  were  a  hammock  and 
a  number  of  upholstered  chairs,  each  with  a 
doily  on  the  back  of  it.  A  work-basket 
stood  on  the  table,  brimming  with  sewing 
materials.  A  white  crocheted  shawl  hung 
on  the  back  of  a  chair,  a  red  paper  lamp 
shade  over  the  electric  bulb. 

The  scene  wakened  sleeping  associations 

of  mine.      Just  such  a  shawl  my  maiden 

aunts  wore  in  Connecticut,  just  such  doilies 

were   on   their   rocking   chairs,   just   such 

7 


8  Mrs.  Mink 


flowered  carpets  were  in  their  parlours. 
They  dressed  like  Mrs.  Mink  too,  but,  to  the 
best  of  my  recollection,  were  not  so  agree 
able  to  look  at. 

That  weird  glistening  sea  garden  of  coral 
and  purple  feathers  and  improbable  fish  was 
fresh  in  my  mind,  with  Dr.  Ulswater's  talk, 
both  undomestic,  paradoxical,  and  showing 
coloured  objects  slumberously  afloat  in  a 
transparent  and  deluding  element.  The 
wide  blue  harbour;  the  steep  white  town 
buried  in  tropical  foliage;  the  big  spruce 
yacht,  too;  the  yellow-bearded  Swede 
Jansen,  and  the  crew  in  flat  caps  and 
jumpers — all  these  belonged  to  the  world  as 
I  had  known  it  of  later  years.  With  the 
line  of  the  awning  came  the  abrupt  change; 
there  ruled  the  flowered  carpet,  the  centre 
table,  the  doilies,  the  provincial  feminine 
touch,  the  tradition  and  influence  of  a  mil 
lion  parlours  and  "sitting  rooms"  of  the 
States.  One  missed  the  wall  paper,  and 
mantelpiece,  the  insipid  and  carefully 


Mrs.  Mink 


framed  print,  and  the  black  stove;  but  Mrs. 
Mink  seemed  to  have  made  herself  at  home, 
so  far  as  she  was  able,  and  the  effect  was 
homelike. 

All  this  while  Mrs.  Mink  looked  critical, 
and  Dr.  Ulswater  was  introducing  himself 
and  me,  and  presently  I  became  aware  that 
Mrs.  Mink  was  telling  Dr.  Ulswater  her 
story. 

It  appeared  that  she  came  from  the  small 
city  of  Potterville,  Ohio,  whose  aspect  might 
be  inferred  and  pictured — a  half-dozen  brick 
business  blocks,  a  railway  station,  a  dozen 
churches,  dusty  streets,  board  sidewalks, 
maples  for  shade  trees — mainly  young  and 
not  too  healthy — clapboarded  frame  houses 
with  narrow  piazzas,  a  thin,  monotonous 
current  of  social  talk,  a  limited  and  local 
existence. 

Until  the  year  before,  the  fortunes  of  Mrs. 
Mink  had  hardly  led  her  beyond  the  borders 
of  the  State,  nor  away  from  Potterville  for 
more  than  a  few  days. 


io  Mrs.  Mink 

Mr.  Mink,  a  silent,  plodding  man — as  I 
gathered — a  banker,  counted  a  well-to-do 
citizen,  but  not  suspected  of  unusual  wealth, 
had  died  the  year  before,  of  a  natural  and 
normal  sickness.  There  must  have  been  a 
secretive  element  in  him,  something  now 
forever  unexplained.  He  had  sat  at  his 
desk  in  his  bank.  Away  from  the  bank  he 
had  never  alluded  to  business.  He  had  not 
liked  any  habits  to  be  altered.  No  one  in 
Potterville,  not  even  the  bank  cashier,  cer 
tainly  not  Mrs.  Mink,  suspected  that  Potter 
ville  harboured  a  millionaire.  But  when 
Mrs.  Mink  found  herself  a  widow  of  exten 
sive  and  varied  wealth,  she  set  herself  to 
consider  the  situation.  So  far  the  story  was 
partly  inferential.  Mrs.  Mink  spoke  with 
some  reserve. 

When  the  size  of  her  income  was  ex 
plained  to  her  by  her  lawyer,  who  was  also 
her  neighbour,  she  cried,  in  some  alarm, 
"What  shall  I  do?" 

He  said:  "Get  a  steam  yacht.     Go  into 


Mrs.  Mink 


high  society,  and  found  a  college.  Spend  it 
on  the  heathen.  Make  your  name  immortal 
in  Potterville." 

"But,"  said  Mrs.   Mink,  narratively,  "I 
thought    those    were    too    many    different 
things.    But  when  I  was  little  I  often  wished 
I  could  see  the  equator,  and  now  I  rather 
wanted  to  see  the  heathen,  and  the  idols  that 
have  pictures  in  Sunday-school  quarterlies. 
The  more  I  thought  of  parrots  and  monkeys 
and  bananas  and  Foreign  Missions,  the  more 
I  knew  what  I  ought  to  do  first.     Because  I 
knew  more  about  Foreign   Missions   than 
about    colleges,    and    I    thought    tropical 
countries     would     be     nicer     than     high 
society." 

"Admirable!"  cried  Dr.  Ulswater,  sud 
denly.  "What  logic!  For  subtle  inference 
and  accurate  reasoning,  look  at  that !" 

Mrs.  Mink  looked  surprised. 

"But  I  felt  sure  that  it  would  be  better  to 
be  comfortable  while  I  was  examining  the 
missions,  so  I  went  to  the  lawyer,  and  he 


12  Mrs.  Mink 


sent  me  to  some  people  who  made  ships. 
After  that  everything  was  plain." 

"Plain!"  cried  Dr.  Ulswater.  "It's  a 
syllogism." 

"The  ship-dealer  was  very  kind,"  said 
Mrs.  Mink,  reflecting.  "He  got  the  Violetta 
and  Captain  Jansen.  It  has  been  quite 

pleasant  so  far.     But "     She  hesitated. 

"But  you  haven't  yet  seen  what  you  seek 
for,"  said  Dr.  Ulswater.  "You  have  taken 
but  a  step  into  the  imperium  of  the  tropics. 
You  have  far  to  go.  I  have  been  on  the 
road  these  twenty  years.  Imprimis,  I  will 
show  you  the  model  upon  which  the  heathen 
idol  is  constructed." 

He  brought  up  the  cuttlefish  from  the  boat 
and  unbundled  it.  Mrs.  Mink  thought  it 
was  somewhat  uglier  than  any  pictures  of 
heathen  idols. 

"The  faith  of  the  savage  is  based  upon 
fear  in  the  midst  of  wonder,"  said  Dr.  Uls 
water.  "This  is  an  incarnate  terror  and  ob 
scure  nightmare  seen  moving  through  inef- 


Mrs.  Mink  13 


fable  sea  gardens.  Behold  the  seed  of 
religions.  You  are  wise,  madam,  in  desir 
ing  to  see  and  to  hear,  to  know  the  miracle 
of  the  world.  Everywhere  two  miracles 
confront  each  other,  the  visible  world  and 
the  soul  of  man  beholding  it,  but  custom  and 
usage  are  blinding;  that  is  to  say,  the  more 
you  get  used  to  a  thing,  the  more  you  don't 
see  it." 

Mrs.  Mink  nodded. 

'The  soul  of  the  heathen,"  continued  Dr. 
Uls water,  musing,  "and  that  of  the  mis 
sionary  are  both  remarkable."  Mrs.  Mink 
looked  suspicious;  but  he  continued,  mus 
ing:  "There  is,  at  this  moment,  an  insurrec 
tion  in  Haiti,  a  bad-tempered  mountain 
blowing  up  in  Peru,  and  ten  thousand  miles 
from  there  a  large  brown  idol,  that  I  know 
well,  sitting  in  the  woods  in  Ceylon,  with 
green  jade  eyes  and  silver  finger-nails.  And 
they're  all  turned  over  once  a  day." 

Something   about   Mrs.    Mink,    self-con 
tained,  quiet,  and  decisive,  looking  at  him 


14  Mrs.  Mink 


with  shrewd,  unbewildered  eyes,  seemed  to 
rouse  him  to  conversation ;  or  else  he  had  an 
object  in  being  entertaining.  Captain  Jan- 
sen  and  two  or  three  blue-capped  sailors 
were  near,  and  stood  at  the  corner  of  the 
cabin  listening,  while  he  talked  on,  talked 
immensely,  talked  gloriously,  talked  like  the 
power  of  Niagara,  until  the  tide  ran  out  and 
the  sun  set,  and  Mrs.  Mink  said,  "Now  you'll 
stay  to  tea,"  so  decisively  that  we  stayed  to 
tea. 

In  the  cabin  were  green  curtains  and  pink 
lamp-shade,  wall  paper  and  framed  prints,  a 
radiator,  biscuits,  cake,  preserves,  a  red- 
haired  Irish  servant-girl  named  Norah,  and 
Mrs.  Mink  at  home.  She  was  thoughtful. 
"Do  you  have  to  collect  cuttlefish?"  she 
asked  at  last. 

"I?  No.  I  do  what  I  like.  Why?" 
Dr.  Ulswater's  innocence  of  manner  was 
perhaps  too  elaborate.  "My  curly-haired 
young  friend  must  not  go  back  to  his  job  for 
some  weeks  in  South  America,  for  he  is  not 


Mrs.  Mink  15 


yet  a  grizzly-bear.  He  is  languid,  like  a 
jelly-fish." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  dare  ask  any  one  away 
from  business.  But  I  have  some  spare 
rooms,  and  I  would  be  pleased  if  you  and 
Mr.  Kirby  would  visit  me.  It  would  be  a 
great  help,  if  you  aren't  too  busy." 

"We  are  your  grateful  guests,"  said  Dr. 
Ulswater,  elaborately. 

When  we  came  to  go,  the  sulky  negro 
and  his  boat  had  disappeared.  Captain  Jan- 
sen  offered  to  take  us  ashore.  Dr.  Ulswater 
bundled  up  his  cuttlefish.  Mrs.  Mink  said, 

"He's  dreadfully  untidy." 

"Admirable!"  cried  Dr.  Ulswater  again. 
"It's  a  select  word,  a  creative  description! 
He's  a  regular  litter.  His  very  vital  point 
is  loose." 

We  slid  away  in  the  starlight. 

"What  personality!"  muttered  Dr.  Uls 
water.  "What  point  of  view!  Untidy! 
The  very  word!  She  buys  a  steam  yacht, 
furnishes  it  in  the  style  of  Potterville,  Ohio, 


1 6  Mrs.  Mink 

and  starts  off  to  examine  Foreign  Missions. 
Why,  sure !  That's  easy !" 

Captain  Jansen  chuckled :  "I  see  men  try 
sheat  her  more'n  once,  but  they  don't.  She 
have  a  head." 

"Untidy !"  muttered  Dr.  Ulswater.  "Un 
tidy!" — as  if  he  foreboded  trouble  in  that 
word. 


CHAPTER  III 
tbe  GwentB  patriots 


WE  left  Nassau  the  following  morn 
ing.  On  the  third  day  we  passed 
the  Inaguas  and  sighted  Tortuga.  They 
were  days  rich  with  the  tropical  outpourings 
of  Dr.  Ulswater,  into  whose  warm  Gulf 
Stream  of  conversation  Mrs.  Mink  now  and 
then  dropped  cool  comments  and  punctua 
tions  that  excited  his  luxuriant  praise. 
What  Mrs.  Mink  thought  of  Dr.  Ulswater 
was  not  so  clear. 

The  green  cliffs  of  Haiti  overhung  a  white 
surf,  and  the  lapping  mouths  of  half-sub 
merged  caves  below  ;  above  was  the  tangle  of 
the  forest,  great  pendant  leaves,  sweeping 
and  coiling  creepers.  It  was  the  hot  morn 
ing  of  the  fourth  day.  There  was  a  thin, 
shining  mist  about,  and  Dr.  Ulswater 
quoted  : 

17 


1 8       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

"  .  .    .  soft  and  purple  mist 
Like  a  vaporous  amethyst, 
.    .    .   red  and  golden  vines 
Piercing  with  their  trellised  lines 
The  rough  dark-skirted  wilderness. 

"Vaporous  amethyst !"  he  murmured, 
sentimentally.  "Gaseous  spirit  of  jewel! 
Ah,  Mrs.  Mink!  Lyric  poetry,  is  it  not  a 
religion  ?" 

Mrs.  Mink  shook  her  head. 

"You  see  a  distinction.  You  are  right. 
You  would  say,  in  the  worship  of  beauty  the 
ethical  element  is  too  subsidiary.  You 
would  point  out  the  lack  of  rigidity  and  pur 
pose." 

Mrs.  Mink  did  not  commit  herself.  We 
watched  the  smoke  of  a  steamer  coming  to 
ward  us  from  the  east. 

"I  see  the  deep's  untrampled  floor !"  mur 
mured  Dr.  Ulswater. 

The  steamer,  a  dilapidated  side-wheeler, 
drew  nearer,  and  a  small  cannon  was  plainly 
to  be  seen  in  the  prow,  but  the  only  men  in 
sight  were  a  negro  at  the  wheel  and  another 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       1 9 

walking  the  bridge.  As  they  came  within 
hailing,  the  cannon  went  off  suddenly,  the 
ball  boomed  overhead,  and  struck,  spat! 
against  the  cliff,  and  on  the  deck  a  crowd  of 
negroes  sprang  up  and  fell  to  dancing,  howl 
ing,  waving  their  guns.  Mrs.  Mink  said, 
"For  goodness'  sake!"  while  Dr.  Ulswater 
and  I  went  to  join  Captain  Jansen. 

"Yas,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  know.  If  I 
know,  I  got  avay." 

Three  boat-loads  of  negroes  were  coming 
to  board  us.  In  the  prow  of  the  first  was 
one  tall  and  thin,  with  a  gold-laced  regi 
mental  coat,  a  tasselled  sword,  a  wide- 
brimmed  straw  hat,  and  the  dignity  of  a 
commodore.  They  drew  under  the  side, 
and  Dr.  Ulswater  and  this  Commodore 
talked  Haitian  French. 

Then  they  scrambled  aboard,  marched  aft 
in  an  orderly  manner,  squatted  on  the  deck 
against  the  rail  at  the  edge  of  the  flowered 
carpet.  Most  of  them  grinned  sociably  and 
chattered  to  each  other.  The  crew  of  the 


2o       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

Violetta  remained  forward  discussing  them. 
Dr.  Ulswater,  the  Commodore,  Captain  Jan- 
sen,  and  I  sat  down  under  the  awning  in  the 
upholstered  chairs,  together  with  Mrs.  Mink. 
Dr.  Ulswater  explained,  cheerfully: 

"He  says  he's  an  insurrection.  He  ad 
mits  that  we're  not  the  enemy,  but  says  he's 
got  to  have  the  Violetta  in  order  to  triumph 
over  the  tyrant  of  Haiti.  When  he  has 
triumphed  we  will  be  rewarded, — meaning 
he'll  be  in  a  position  to  pay  damages.  He 
thinks  our  consciences  will  reward  us,  too. 
He  thinks  that's  a  strong  point, — maybe 
stronger  than  the  other.  He  has  only  that 
one  war-ship,  and  he  needs  another  in  order 
to  attack  the  navies  of  the  tyrant.  If  you 
ask  whether  he's  innocent  or  clever,  why,  I 
give  it  up,  but  I  guess  he's  superlatively  one 
of  them.  He  appears  to  be  calm." 

"Do  you  mean  he  wants  me  to  give  him 
the  Violetta?"  asked  Mrs.  Mink,  sharply. 

"Something  resembling  that,  and  it's  not 
so  unnatural," — Dr.  Ulswater  waved  his 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       21 

hand  balmily, — "you  know,  from  his  point 
of  view " 

"Nonsense !  I  sha'n't  do  anything  of  the 
kind!" 

"But — well — I  gather  his  innocence  is 
such  that  he  might  get  up  and  take  it." 

"I'd  like  to  see  him !     Who  is  he?" 

She  was  sharp-voiced,  alert,  and  keen. 
Dr.  Ulswater  seemed  bewildered. 

"Yes,  but  I  gather  he's  a  sort  of  patriotic 
pirate, — piratical  so  far  that  it  might  not  do 
to  irritate  him." 

Mrs.  Mink  softened  a  degree :  "Is  he 
patriotic?" 

"My  experience  in  this  neighbourhood," 
said  the  doctor,  "has  been  that  patriotic 
leaders,  who  are  down  on  the  tyrant,  are 
generally  looking  for  his  job.  But  now,  as 
they  appear  to  be  some  two  or  three  to  one 
of  us,  and  armed,  and,  technically  speaking, 
to  have  the  drop  on  us, — why,  there's  a 
West-Indian  proverb  to  the  effect  that  'A 
spider  and  a  fly  don't  bargain,'  but  I  would 


22       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

suggest  something  diplomatic,  something 
perhaps  a  little  yielding.  Something  of  that 
kind." 

The  Commodore  all  this  while  sat  stiffly 
upright,  with  one  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his 
tasselled  sword  and  no  expression  on  his 
face,  glaring  away  from  us  across  the  sea. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  his  bearing  couldn't  be 
natural  to  a  being  with  human  weaknesses, 
and  that  it  went  beyond  the  real  require 
ments  of  his  uniform.  I  judged  he  had 
gotten  it  off  an  equestrian  statue. 

Dr.  Ulswater  began  to  talk  with  him 
again.  Of  the  military,  on  the  edge  of  the 
flowered  carpet,  some  looked  genial,  some 
murderous — most  of  them  genially  murder 
ous.  Captain  Jansen  pulled  his  beard  and 
looked  meekly  at  Mrs.  Mink,  and  Mrs.  Mink 
examined  the  Commodore  critically. 

"He  says,"  resumed  Dr.  Ulswater,  "that 
it's  a  military  crisis,  and  he  must  have  an 
other  war-ship  or  go  under.  When  he  has 
conquered  the  ships  of  the  tyrant,  he  will 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       23 

reward  us.  His  remarks,  like  his  manner, 
are  a  bit  monotonous,  but  I  gather  he's 
nearly,  what  you  might  call,  on  his  last  legs. 
He  rather  intends  to  put  us  all  ashore." 

"Fiddlesticks !" 

"A— certainly !     You  think " 

"Fiddlesticks  r 

Dr.  Ulswater  subsided. 

"Ask  them  if  they  don't  want  some  coffee. 
Ask  how  many  are  left  in  the  other  ship. 
They  can  have  some  too." 

Dr.  Ulswater  reported  that  they  did;  that 
there  were  five  on  the  war-ship;  that  the 
Commodore  was  gratified  to  find  madam 
accepted  the  necessity  amiably. 

The  crew  and  all  of  us  hurried  under  Mrs. 
Mink's  orders.  She  collected  cups  and 
glasses.  She  called  for  three  kettles  of  boil 
ing  water  to  the  cabin,  and  closed  the  door. 
There  were  six  of  us,  including  Captain  Jan- 
sen  and  the  Irish  girl,  Norah. 

"Now,  Dr.  Ulswater,  you  must  help. 
Listen !  You  must  put  them  to  sleep." 


24       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 


"Listen!  These  two  kettles  will  hold 
about  thirty  cups.  Don't  give  them  too 
much.  See  that  they  all  drink  it  at  the  same 
time.  Send  a  pot  to  the  other  ship.  When 
they're  all  asleep,  put  them  ashore.  Now 
don't  tell  me  you  can't,  or  you  haven't  any 
thing  to  do  it  with,  because  you  must!  I 
won't  stand  it !  The  idea  of  giving  up  the 
Violetta  to  be  shot  at!  How  do  I  know 
what  would  happen  to  it?  This  pot  we'll 
keep  for  ourselves,  and  pour  into  the  blue 
cups.  Hush!  Don't  talk  to  me !  Ask  them 
to  drink  a  health  or  something  to  some 
thing  or  other,  so  they'll  go  to  sleep  together. 
Give  up  the  Violetta!  That  silly,  conceited 
thing  sitting  up  there  like  a  barber's  pole  and 
asking  me  that!" 

"You    want     some     knock-out     drops!" 
gasped  Dr.  Ulswater. 

"Hush!    Laudanum,  laughing-gas!    You 
know.     Hurry!" 

Dr.  Ulswater  gazed  at  her  with  speechless 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       25 

admiration,  took  the  two  kettles,  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  passageway  toward  his 
cabin. 

"Captain  Jansen,  you'll  take  this  gray  pot 
to  the  other  ship,  and  only  one  man  with 
you,  so  they  won't  suspect;  as  soon  as 
they're  asleep  you  better  tie  them  up  and 
come  back.  Put  the  trays  on  the  table,  Mr. 
Kirby,  and  the  cups  and  things  on  the  trays. 
Keep  the  blue  cups  together.  Do  you  know 
if  they  like  sugar?" 

Dr.  Ulswater  returned. 

"Now  take  the  gray  pot,  Captain  Jansen. 
We  won't  serve  here  till  you  get  there. 
Norah,  pour  them  fuller.  Dr.  Ulswater,  you 
must  go  out  and  explain.  Tell  them  it  will 
be  ready  in  a  few  moments." 

Dr.  Ulswater  opened  the  door  and  went 
out,  muttering,  "Wonderful !" 

The  Commodore  sat  as  before,  holding  his 
sword-hilt.  The  military  sat  between  the 
rail  and  the  edge  of  the  carpet.  Dr.  Uls 
water  made  a  speech,  which  appeared  to 


26       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

please  them.  Captain  Jansen  and  one  of  the 
crew  rowed  away  in  the  boat,  the  captain 
nursing  the  gray  pot  and  the  tea  tray  on  his 
knee. 

Mrs.  Mink  filled  cups,  glasses,  and 
tins. 

"I  hope  it  will  make  that  barber's  pole 
sick.  There !  Captain  Jansen  has  gone  up, 
Dr.  Ulswater!  Tell  them  about  taking  it 
all  together.  Tell  them  to  wait  till  we're 
ready.  Mr.  Kirby,  you're  spilling.  Take 
care  of  the  blue  cups,  and  let  the  men  pass 
the  other  trays.  You  two  go  to  the  right, 
you  two  to  the  left,  you  to  the  other  end. 
Now  we're  ready." 

Norah  was  pallid.  The  twenty  patriots 
took  their  cups  in  hand  and  waited  with 
wide,  grinning  mouths.  Dr.  Ulswater  lifted 
his  coffee-cup. 

"A  la  Patrie!"  he  cried.  "La  Revolu 
tion  !  fa  ira !  Let  her  go !" 

"They  haven't  all  emptied  their  cups,  Dr. 
Ulswater!" 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       27 

"Encore!"  thundered  the  doctor.  "La 
Revolution!  Videz  toutes!  Bottoms  up." 

"Goodness!"  cried  Mrs.  Mink.  "How 
they  look !"  and  ran  into  the  cabin,  followed 
by  Norah,  shrieking. 

Under  the  spell  of  Dr.  Ulswater's  power 
ful  drops  the  twenty  negroes  stared,  grunted, 
fell  back,  twitching,  kicking,  astonished, 
breathing  in  snorts.  Glass  and  china 
crashed  on  the  deck.  One  of  them  stag 
gered  up  with  a  yell  and  dropped  again. 
One  rolled  half  across  the  flowered  carpet. 
The  Commodore  struggled  for  an  instant 
with  his  tasselled  sword,  and  subsided,  mut 
tering.  The  long  rows  of  limp  and  ragged 
men,  of  black  faces  and  open  mouths,  were 
ghastly  and  still.  A  gun  was  discharged  on 
the  war-ship. 

"Tie  them  up !"  cried  Mrs.  Mink  from  the 
cabin. 

Dr.  Ulswater  turned  about,  beaming  at 
me.  "A  remarkable  opiate,  that,  Kit!  I 
always  said  so,"  and  pulled  out  his  note- 


28       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

book,  and  made  notes,  aloud:  "On  two  of 
the  subjects  evidently  painful  in  action — ten 
to  twenty  seconds — per  man  three  grains — 
muscular  contractions,  followed  by  total  re 
laxation  and  coma — in  case  observed  dis 
solved  in  solution  of  coffee — Remark 
able  !" 

"Tie  them  up !"  cried  Mrs.  Mink  again. 

Captain  Jansen,  with  his  man,  came  back 
and  reported  that  his  cases  had  been  dis 
orderly.  One  of  them  had  discharged  his 
gun  and  fallen  down  the  gangway. 

We  carried  them,  one  by  one,  to  the  boats 
and  tugged  back  and  forth  across  a  hot  and 
heaving  stretch  of  water,  till  they  were  all 
landed.  Some  of  them  were  stirring  and 
made  a  noise. 

When  the  last  boat-load  was  gone,  Dr. 
Ulswater  and  I  came  back  under  the  awning. 
Norah  was  washing  dishes  in  the  cabin,  Mrs. 
Mink  sweeping  the  deck  with  a  broom.  The 
guns  lay  along  the  scuppers.  She  stopped, 
and  lifted  a  troubled  face  to  Dr.  Ulswater. 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       29 

"Will  it  do  them  any  harm?" 
Dr.  Ulswater  seemed  subdued:  "It  will 
make  them  sick  at  the  stomach.    A — a  moral 
lesson." 

"I  should  think  as  much !"  she  said,  sweep 
ing  vigorously.      'That  impudent  barber! 
Did  he  want  to  be  President?" 
"I  understood  he  had  ambitions." 
She  hesitated  again:  "Do  you  think  the 
revolution  ought  to  succeed,  if  their  govern 
ment  is  very  bad  ?     Or  would  it  be  better  to 
stop  it  ?" 

Dr.  Ulswater  gasped  again,  but  recovered 
himself,  and  brought  his  mind  back  to 
gravity  and  consideration :  "My  observation 
has  been  that,  though  tropical  governments 
are  sometimes  objectionable,  these  frequent 
violences  seldom  improve  them,  and  create 
distress.  I  think  it  is  generally  more  be 
nevolent  to  back  the  existing  state  of 
things." 

"Oh !     Then  I  think  Captain  Jansen  had 
better  tie  something  to  the  other  ship,  so 


30       And  the  Twenty  Patriots 

that  we  can  pull  it  after  us  and  give  it  to  the 
other  people.  Anyway,"  she  ended,  sharply, 
"I'm  sure  that  conceited  thing  would  make  a 
bad  President." 

It  was  high  noon  when  we  steered  away 
for  Cape  Haitien,  towing  the  war-ship.  On 
shore  two  or  three  revolutionists  were  climb 
ing  a  gully  in  the  cliffs.  Others  were  sous 
ing  their  heads  in  the  surf.  More  of  them 
seemed  to  be  still  sick  or  drowsy.  Mrs. 
Mink  went  to  take  a  nap.  Dr.  Ulswater 
and  I  leaned  against  the  rail.  Captain  Jan- 
sen  edged  toward  us. 

"My,  my !"  he  said.  He  rubbed  his  beard 
a  moment,  shook  his  head  thoughtfully,  and 
went  forward. 

Dr.  Ulswater  pressed  his  handkerchief  to 
his  wet  forehead.  The  heat  was  great. 

"Kit,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "this  is  a  dis 
covery.  Personality  to  burn.  Captured  by 
desperate  insurrectionists,  she  demands 
knock-out  drops.  She  puts  them  to  sleep 
with  a  coffee-pot,  and  bundles  them  ashore. 


And  the  Twenty  Patriots       31 

And  why  not?  She  balances  the  issue  of  a 
people,  tows  off  a  war-ship,  and  squelches 
revolution.  Why  not?  And  yet,  what 
a  phenomenon  of  intrepid  reason !  What  a 
woman !" 


CHAPTER  IV 
Cbe  Croptc  an&  tbe  temperate 

WHEN  a  chicken  drinks,"  said  Dr. 
Ulswater,  "he  lifts  his  head  and 
thanks   God,   but   when   a   man   drinks   he 
doesn't  say  anything.    That  is  a  West-Indian 
proverb." 

I  said :  "It's  a  good  proverb." 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "I  should  say  it  was, 
with  the  chicken,  possibly,  so  to  speak,  a 
somewhat  mechanical  ritual." 

We  were  nearing  the  end  of  our  cruise. 
I  never  wanted  less  to  go  back  to  Portate, 
but  my  health  was  too  boisterously  good  to 
be  denied.  It  was  toward  the  end  of  No 
vember.  In  the  land  of  steadfast  people,  the 
frost  would  be  on  the  grass,  the  wind  in  the 
yellow  corn-shocks,  the  good  folk  gathering 
to  their  annual  feast  of  gratitude,  far  from 
these  lazy  seas.  Old  women  with  white 
32 


The  Tropic  and  the  Temperate    33 

hair  and  knitting,  old  men  walking  with 
canes,  pink-cheeked  girls  and  big-handed 
men,  children  storming  the  banisters — they 
would  all  be  there. 

"What  will  you  do  on  Thanksgiving 
day?"  I  asked,  thinking  of  the  cool  corn 
fields  and  familiar  faces,  of  farm-yards  and 
houses  where  chickens  used  to  drink  in 
prayerful  attitudes,  where  men  also  thanked 
God  when  they  drank,  or  ate. 

"I  have  left  it  to  Mrs.  Mink.  She  is  con 
sidering  it." 

"How?" 

"She  is  considering  me.  It  amounts  to 
the  same  thing.  Her  decision,  I  should  say, 
would  determine  my  attitude  on  the  question 
of  gratitude." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  have  requested  her  to  consider  me 
matrimonially,"  he  said.  "I  fear  she  is 
considering  me  in  the  light  of  Foreign  Mis 
sions. 

"I  have  presented  to  Mrs.  Mink,"  he  con- 


34   The  Tropic  and  the  Temperate 

tinued,  "as  bearing  on  the  point,  one  of  the 
clearest  analogical  arguments  you  ever  saw. 
It  is  as  follows:  The  business  of  the  tropic 
and  temperate  zones  is  to  entertain  and 
supplement  each  other.  They  trade  ex 
periences — as  they  trade  crude  rubber  for 
sewing  machines — to  the  profit  of  both  par 
ties.  Put  them  together  and  there  arises  in 
the  mind  of  each  a  sense  of  romantic  sur 
prise.  Providence  has  supplied  the  need  of 
man  for  permanent  astonishment  by  a  tri 
fling  gradation  of  heat,  so  that  when  either 
shall  feel  the  need  for  something  miraculous 
and  incongruous,  it  has  only  to  find  the 
other.  I  have  pointed  out  to  Mrs.  Mink 
that  her  sailing  in  the  tropics  was  only  fall 
ing  in  with  this  arrangement  of  Providence, 
and  she  was  pleased  to  hear  it.  Going  about 
on  loose  seas  in  lazy  climates  sometimes  had 
seemed  to  her  a  lax  and  disorderly  kind  of 
conduct,  and  having  it  attached  that  way  to 
Providence  made  her  feel  better.  I  said  to 
Mrs.  Mink:  It's  a  doctrine  of  the  present 


The  Tropic  and  the  Temperate    35 

age  that  the  tropics  are  best  administered 
and  managed,  for  the  good  of  all,  by  the 
temperate  zone.  Civilisation  is  now  tend 
ing  to  that  end.  Now,  you,  Mrs.  Mink,  are 
a  temperate  zone.  I  am  a  tropical  one. 
You  have  administrative  ability.  I  am  a 
heterogeneous  person,  untidy,  overflowing, 
and  hankering  to  be  administered.  You  are 
the  one,  I  am  the  other.  Hence  our  mutual 
functions,  destinies,  relations  to  each  other, 
have  been  arranged  and  foreordained  by 
Providence.  Quod  erat  demonstrandum.' 
That  was  my  argument  to  Mrs. 
Mink." 

I  said:  "It's  a  good  argument.  How 
does  she  like  it?" 

"Mrs.  Mink,"  he  said,  "is  reflective  but 
unconvinced.  The  extent  to  which  she  is 
unconvinced  is  alarming.  I  can't  deny  it." 

I  left  them  the  day  after  Thanksgiving, 
at  San  Juan  in  Porto  Rico,  and  went  back  to 
Portate.  Singular  town,  Portate.  Singular 
man,  Dr.  Ulswater.  Singular  planet  around 


36    The  Tropic  and  the  Temperate 

which  the  Violetta  was  setting  out  with  its 
critical,  exploring  prow. 

It  was  some  two  months  after,  when  I 
received  Dr.  Ulswater's  first  letter.  Alto 
gether  he  sent  me  four  letters.  Letters! 
rather  manuscripts,  documents,  written  in 
his  own  mellow  and  tumultuous  style. 
They  made  that  wandering  hearth  and  home 
of  the  Violetta  a  vivid  enough  picture  to  my 
mind.  I  followed  its  course  from  sea  to  sea, 
from  island  to  island,  wishing  myself  aboard 
her.  Here  follow  the  documents. 


CHAPTER  V 

jfitst  Document.    3Dr.  TUtewater's  narrative: 
fftrst  B&venture 

TRINIDAD — January. 

WHAT  a  world !  What  a  woman ! 
From  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Mink 
collected  you  and  me,  it  was  clear  that  she 
had  a  knack,  a  genius,  nay,  even  let  us  say,  a 
tendency  toward  collecting  people.  In  point 
of  fact,  no  sooner  were  you  gone  than  she 
collected  a  Professor  of  Logic. 

His  name  was  Simpson,  Professor  Simp 
son.  It  was  at  San  Juan.  Why  did 
she  collect  him?  Now  you  speak  of  it,  I 
reckon  it  was  for  a  sort  of  a  breakwater  to 
me.  Gracious  heavens!  It  wasn't  for  want 
of  logic.  Never!  But  it  is  just  possible 
that  she  found  me,  at  the  time, — I  suspected 
it — that  she  found  me  rather — shall  I  say  ? — 
overflowing,  rather  a  deluge. 
37 


38  First  Adventure 

Professor  Simpson  was  a  man  whose 
presence  I  should  ordinarily  have  welcomed 
for  the  educational  value  of  his  company, 
but  I  didn't  welcome  him.  He  was  small 
in  person,  dry  of  face,  categorical  in  manner, 
testy  in  temper,  Presbyterian  in  religion, 
pedantic  in  language,  undoubtedly  learned. 
But  did  he  understand  his  function  to  be 
merely  a  breakwater  to  me?  He  did  not. 
Let  that  pass  for  the  present.  Mrs.  Mink 
collected  him  at  San  Juan,  and  we  steamed 
away  to  Martinique.  Here,  one  day,  on  or 
about  the  tenth  of  December,  we  lay  in  the 
roadstead  of  St.  Pierre. 

We  were  intending  to  go  on  that  day,  but 
about  two-thirds  of  the  Vwletta's  crew  were 
in  St.  Pierre  on  shore  leave.  Captain  Jan- 
sen  came  aboard  some  time  after  noon,  and 
finding  the  men  had  not  returned,  became 
excited,  took  all  the  boats,  and  the  remainder 
of  the  crew,  even  down  to  the  cook,  to  help 
him  collect  delinquent  mariners  the  faster, 
and  went  ashore  again.  We  four  were  left 


First  Adventure  39 

on  the  Violetta:  Mrs.  Mink,  Norah,  Pro 
fessor  Simpson,  and  I. 

The  weather  was  calm  to  the  point  of 
deadness.  Mont  Pelee,  that  smouldering 
volcano,  that  suppressed  Titan,  was  asleep. 
Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  not  a  ripple  in  the 
bay.  Jansen  appeared  to  be  having  trouble, 
for  an  hour  passed,  and  the  missing  crew 
had  not  returned. 

Between  you  and  me,  as  man  and  man, 
the  delinquent  mariners  were  in  the  lockup, 
but  Mrs.  Mink  does  not  know  that,  as  yet. 
You  can't  rivet  a  nail  in  a  boiled  potato, 
nor  temperance  in  the  tempestuous  sea 
man,  but  Mrs.  Mink  doesn't  know  that, 
as  yet. 

We  were  just  commenting  upon  a  dark, 
small,  condensed  looking  cloud  which  had 
appeared  above  the  shoulder  of  Mont 
Pelee,  questioning  whether  it  was  an  exhala 
tion  of  the  volcano,  Pelee  in  eruption.  Was 
Mont  Pelee  about  to  overwhelm  St.  Pierre, 
a  Vesuvius  to  Pompeii?  Was  I,  like  the 


40  First  Adventure 

elder  Pliny,  to  perish,  a  suffocated  naturalist, 
a  philosopher  in  cinder? 

But  it  grew  with  enormous  rapidity.  It 
seemed  to  have  an  uncommon  knack  of  taking 
in  nourishment,  a  terrifying  appetite.  I  saw 
a  house  on  the  mountain  side  rise  up  and 
vanish,  swallowed  at  a  gulp.  Professor 
Simpson  got  out  his  note-book  and  took 
notes.  He  described  the  cloud  in  his  note 
book  as  "bulbous,  or  bulging  in  form,  in 
colour  a  bluish  black,  and  unfolding  centrif 
ugal  ly  toward  the  edges." 

"In  my  opinion,"  he  said,  "we  are  our 
selves  in  some  personal  danger.  I  believe 
this  is  what  is  commonly  called  a  tor 
nado.  Do  you  differ  from  me,  Dr.  Uls- 
water?" 

I  said :  "Not  there,  professor,  though  it's 
late  in  the  year  for  West-Indian  hurricanes. 
The  most  pointed  opinion  I've  got  is  that 
this  deck  is  going  to  be  a  wet  place  in  a 
minute/' 

We'd  hardly  got  to  the  cabin  before  the 


First  Adventure  41 

roar  was  audible,  and  grew  till  we  could  not 
hear  ourselves.  One  minute  more  and  the 
Violetta  gave  a  jerk  that  threw  us  on  the 
floor,  Norah  on  Professor  Simpson  and 
Mrs.  Mink  on  Norah.  Between  them  they 
obscured  him,  on  the  whole,  very  well.  I 
got  up  and  looked  through  the  port-hole,  and 
saw  only  spray  and  splashing  water.  The 
ship  was  engaged  in  a  sort  of  circular  high- 
kicking  dance,  something  between  a  waltz 
and  a  cancan.  The  professor  remained  ob 
scure.  Neither  Mrs.  Mink  nor  Norah  saw 
their  way  clearly  to  getting  off  him,  and  for 
myself, — seeing  that  he  kicked  but  vaguely, 
harmlessly, — I  thought  Mrs.  Mink  and 
Norah  might  as  well  suit  themselves  about 
it. 

At  the  end  of  four  minutes,  perhaps  five 
or  ten,  the  tumult  had  subsided  to  a  strong 
wind  and  heavy  sea.  I  went  on  deck,  and 
discovered  that  the  Violetta  had  been  torn 
loose  from  her  anchor,  and  was  drifting 
rapidly.  The  mist,  however,  was  too  thick 


42  First  Adventure 

to  see  far  in  any  direction.  By  the  point 
from  which  the  tornado  had  come,  I  judged 
that  we  had  been  driven  out  of  the  roadstead 
and  were  moving  perhaps  west,  or  north 
west,  on  the  open  sea.  A  broken  spar  hung 
from  the  short  rigging  and  beat  against  the 
mast,  and  the  deck  was  awash  with  water. 
I  went  back  to  the  cabin,  and  mentioned  my 
inferences.  Mrs.  Mink  jumped  up  and 
said : 

"Nonsense!     It's  impossible." 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Mink,"  said  the  pro 
fessor,  rising,  "surely  a  situation  that  is  in 
esse,  in  actual  existence,  cannot  be  described 
as  'impossible.'  It  is,  as  you  mean  to  imply, 
however,  most  distressing." 

"Fiddlesticks !     What  shall  we  do  ?" 

The  professor  reflected.  On  reflection, 
he  said  he  thought  it  needed  reflection.  I 
thought  we  might  as  well  remain  where  we 
were.  He  objected  that,  being  in  motion 
with  the  ship,  it  was  not  in  our  power  to 
remain  where  we  were,  but,  as  regards 


First  Adventure  43 

our  relations  to  the  ship,   I   was  perhaps 
right. 

What  a  man ! 

Mrs.    Mink  said   we'd  better  have  sup 
per. 

The  mist  was  turning  to  rain,  the  violence 
of  the  waves  gradually  subsiding,  and  the 
wind  growing  more  moderate.  Norah  and 
I  went  to  the  galley.  She  cooked  and  I 
carried.  After  supper  it  was  dark.  A  pitch- 
black  and  rainy  night  came  down  on  the 
troubled  sea.  The  professor  and  I  agreed 
to  watch  alternately.  He  went  to  bed  and  I 
lay  down  on  the  cabin  sofa.  I  listened  to 
the  creak  and  thump  of  the  loose  spar,  the 
murmur  of  the  rain,  the  splash  of  waves 
against  the  Violetta's  sides.  I  reflected  that 
our  situation  was  perhaps  more  unusual  than 
perilous;  that  we  were  likely  to  be  seen  by 
somebody  if  the  weather  cleared;  that  after 
all  the  sea  is  in  reality  a  less  eventful  element 
than  the  land;  that  a  philosophic  mind  is 
better  than  a  feather  bed;  that  with  reason- 


44  First  Adventure 

able  good  luck  and  a  philosophic  mind  I 
might  have  the  credit  of  a  nightlong  watch 
over  Mrs.  Mink's  slumbers,  along  with  the 
benefit  of  a  night's  rest.  So  reflecting,  I 
went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VI 
Second 


WHEN  I  awoke  the  sun  was  shining  in 
at  the  port-holes,  and  the  ship  ap 
peared  to  be  quiet,  but  slanting.  It  was  the 
slant  that  had  rolled  me  off  the  sofa  and 
awakened  me.  Hence  it  must  have  just 
happened.  I  went  up  the  companionway, 
and  saw  —  the  boundless  blue  expanse  of 
dimpled  sea  ?  Not  at  all  !  Nothing  of  the 
kind!  On  the  contrary,  a  towering  green 
wall  of  forest  trees  almost  overhung  the 
ship. 

Talk  not  to  me  of  the  ruthless  chain  of 
causes  whereby  all  things  are  bound,  of 
nature's  dismal  obedience  to  law!  As  a 
scientist,  I  admit  it  with  reservation  —  as  a 
man,  with  tears.  But  what  I  really  like 
about  things  is  their  fresh  and  genial  incon 
sequence.  Among  all  worlds,  give  me  one 

45 


46  Second  Adventure 

compact  of  improbability.  Among  all 
women,  give  me  one  of  invincible  good 
sense. 

The  Violetta  lay  something  over  fifty  feet 
from  a  high  wooded  bank.  The  tide  was 
out,  but  the  shelve  of  the  bottom  must  be 
steep,  for  her  list  to  landward  was  not  very 
great.  We  were  on  the  eastern  side  of  a 
semicircular  bay,  which  opened  toward  the 
south.  It  was  still  early  morning.  No 
wind  stirred,  and  the  ripples  flowed  gently 
among  the  stones  beneath  the  high  banks. 
Bright-coloured  birds  flitted  between  the  tall 
stems  of  the  palm  trees.  A  place  so  calm, 
so  halcyon,  so  appropriate  to  the  purposes  of 
my  suit!  In  fact, — Bless  my  soul! — noth 
ing  could  be  better. 

Professor  Simpson  and  Mrs.  Mink  ap 
peared  on  deck. 

"Oh!"  she  said;  "Where's  this,  doctor?" 

She  looked  as  if  she  thought  I  had  omnip 
otently  arranged  the  climax.  I  passed  the 
question  on  to  the  professor. 


Second  Adventure  47 

"Tentatively,"  he  said,  "I  should  conjec 
ture  it  was  an  outlying  island  somewhat  to 
the  north  or  east  of  Martinique." 

"But  does  any  one  live  on  it?" 

"That  Dr.  Ulswater  and  myself  will  take 
upon  us  to  discover." 

"Well,  I  think  it's  a  nice  island,  anyway. 
But  there  aren't  any  boats.  How  are  we 
going  to  get  on  it?"  4 

"Precisely!"  said  the  professor.  "A 
problem!  I  would  suggest,  perhaps,  a 
bridge  of — of  palm  trees,  felled — "  he 
kindled  with  light  inflammable  ideas — 
"felled  in  such  a  manner  as  to  fall  for 
ward  upon  the  ship,  thus,  being  fastened, 
to  form  a  secure  connection  with  the 
shore." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  chop  them  from 
here,"  said  Mrs.  Mink. 

"True.     That  is  a  difficulty." 

There  was  a  pause.  A  green  and  scarlet 
parrot  was  swearing  at  us  from  where  he 
swung  on  a  vine  above  the  bank.  I  leaned 


48  Second  Adventure 

on  the  rail  and  listened  to  the  parrot  and 
considered  his  point  of  view. 

"Professor,"  I  said  at  last;  "this  is  a 
world  of  compensations.  There's  compensa 
tion  in  your  not  understanding  the  dialect  of 
that  parrot.  His  clothes  are  handsome,  but 
his  language  is  bad.  You  are  religious  and 
ascetic,  and  he's  a  worldling.  I'm  a  world 
ling,  too,  but  I  can  swim,  and  I  see  compen 
sations." 

"Let's  have  breakfast,"  said  Mrs.  Mink. 

After  breakfast  I  swam  ashore  with  an 
axe,  climbed  the  bank,  selected  four  tall  slen 
der  palms  that  leaned  in  the  direction  of 
the  Violetta's  after-deck,  and  hacked  them 
down.  Two  of  them  fell  on  the  Violetta 
and  damaged  her  rail,  but  stuck  where  they 
fell.  The  professor  roped  the  ends  to  a 
capstan,  and  crossed  that  sagging  bridge, 
respectably  calm,  dragging  after  him  the 
long  end  of  the  rope,  which  we  fastened  to 
a  tree.  The  Violetta  was  moored. 

Mrs.  Mink  came,  too,  nervous  but  firm. 


Second  Adventure  49 

What  a  woman!  Practical,  foreseeing, 
sagacious,  she  will  walk  the  tight-rope  of 
any  catastrophe.  In  fact,  she  brought  a 
hammock  and  a  cushion  with  her.  Norah's 
method  of  crossing  somewhat  resembled 
shinning  a  pole.  On  recollection,  I  should 
say  that  she  yelled. 

When  Professor  Simpson  and  I  set  out  to 
explore  the  island,  Norah  was  throwing 
stones  at  the  green  and  red  parrot,  and  Mrs. 
Mink  lay  in  the  hammock,  not  understand 
ing  that  parrot's  dialect,  which  I  didn't  un 
derstand  altogether  myself,  but  it  appeared 
to  me  he  was  blistering  the  foliage  with  it. 

The  island  was  some  three  to  five  miles 
around  by  the  coast,  and  no  other  land  was 
in  sight  from  it,  barring  a  slight  bump  on 
the  southeastern  horizon  which  might  be 
another  small  island,  or  might  be  Mont 
Pelee.  It  appeared  we  had  been  blown  some 
distance  during  the  night.  There  were  no 
inhabitants  at  the  time,  or  we  found  none, 
though  there  were  two  groups  of  sorry  huts 


50  Second  Adventure 

not  far  from  the  beach,  and  frequent  paths 
through  the  woods,  showing  occasional  oc 
cupancy. 

We  came  back  by  the  northern  shore  of 
the  bay,  and  saw  that  the  Violetta  was  safe. 
We  stood  some  moments  in  silence.  The 
wind  had  risen  again  and  now  blew  hard 
from  the  west,  so  that  the  Violetta  was  pro 
tected  on  a  lee  shore,  though  where  we  stood 
the  waves  rolled  in  tumultuously.  Profes 
sor  Simpson  broke  the  silence.  He  suddenly 
planted  himself  before  me,  his  hands  on  his 
hips,  and  frowned. 

Now,  a  frown  that  is  directed  upward  has 
the  law  of  gravitation  against  it.  Professor 
Simpson's  shortness  incommoded  him  in 
that  respect. 

"It  is  not  my  habit,  Dr.  Ulswater,"  he 
began,  "to  brook  impertinent  opposition  or 
light-minded  interference.  In,  therefore, 
announcing  my  intention  to  invite  Mrs. 
Mink  to  the  alliance  of  marriage,  I  consider 
that  no  more  need  be  said.  I  wish  to  be  re- 


Second  Adventure  5 1 

lieved  of  this  undignified  rivalry,  and  to 
avail  myself  of  this  situation  to  fulfil  my 
purpose  in  peace.  I  demand  that  your  too 
noticeable  attentions  shall  cease.  Your  at 
titude  toward  Mrs.  Mink  is  offensive  to  me. 
I  repeat,  sir,  they  must  cease." 

Extraordinary  professor!  Never  was 
another  like  him.  He  was  a  species. 

"But,"  I  said,  feebly;  "look  here.  I've 
already  been  at  Mrs.  Mink  on  that  subject 
myself.  I  was  thinking  it  was  a  good  time 
to  work  up  to  it  again." 

"I  object  to  your  giving  Mrs.  Mink  that 
annoyance.  Her  preference  for  me  is  per 
fectly  plain.  You  are  without  personal  at 
tractions." 

"What!" 

"You  are  too  fat." 

"But,  professor!  On  the  other  hand, 
ought  not  the  fact  of  your  being  a  con 
temptible  little  dried-up  molecule,  with  the 
temper  of  a  mosquito  and  the  humour  of  a 
codfish  ball,  oughtn't  that — now  really, 


52  Second  Adventure 

oughtn't  that  fact  to  be  given  some  weight 
in  the  discussion?  I  appeal  to  you,  pro 
fessor?" 

"Sir!" 

He  clenched  his  fists.  It  was  a  critical 
and  perilous  moment.  Did  he  or  did  he  not 
intend  an  attack  on  my  diaphragm  ?  Should 
I  or  should  I  not  be  presently  seated  on  top 
of  him  like  a  bolster  on  a  crab  ? 

There  is  a  Haitian  proverb  which  says, 
"It's  when  the  wind  blows  that  you  see  the 
skin  of  a  hen." 

Professor  Simpson  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  suddenly  laid  himself  flat  on  the  ground, 
extended  his  arms  and  legs  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

"I  was  somewhat  heated,"  he  murmured. 
'To  allay  any  mental  strain,  such  as  vexa 
tion  or  anger,  extend  the  body,  relax  the 
muscles,  and  endeavour  to  abstract  the  mind 
from  surroundings.  The  effect  is  invari 
able.  Let  me  recommend  it  to  you. 
There!"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  getting  to 


Second  Adventure  53 

his  feet.  "I  am  quite  calm.  And  now, 
clearly,  Dr.  Ulswater,  clearly,  we  must  sub 
mit  it  to  Mrs.  Mink.  I  suggest,  then,  that 
we  ask  her  for  a  half-hour's  interview  each. 
Subsequently,  she  will  announce  her  de 
cision,  and  thus  we  will  conclude  our  dis 
pute." 

I  agreed.  We  went  amicably  along  the 
shore  of  the  bay  toward  the  Violetta. 

Norah  was  in  the  hammock,  but  Mrs. 
Mink  had  gone  aboard  again,  and  stood  by 
the  rail  looking  toward  us.  The  yacht  lay 
on  a  lee  shore,  and  there  the  water  was  fairly 
calm;  but  the  force  of  the  wind,  in  spite  of 
the  protection  of  the  trees,  was  such  now  as 
to  put  some  strain  on  the  rope  which 
stretched  taut  to  the  bank. 

"In  half  an  hour,  then,"  said  Professor 
Simpson,  "you  will  be  at  liberty  to  inter 
rupt  me." 

He  was  over  the  bridge  while  I  was  figur 
ing  on  the  discrepancy, — the  something  not 
quite  predestined, — in  his  having  the  first 


54  Second  Adventure 

shot, — that  is  to  say,  the  first  opportunity, — 
of  presenting  his  case  to  Mrs.  Mink.  I  was 
going  to  propose  we  should  flip  a  coin  for 
it.  He  was  a  wonder,  a  wonder!  I  called 
out  to  Mrs.  Mink,  asking  for  an  interview  in 
half  an  hour.  She  looked  surprised.  I 
went  back  among  the  trees,  and  wished  I 
were  a  Presbyterian,  and  watched,  during 
that  long"  half-hour,  the  minutes  slowly  pass 
ing  on  the  cold  unfeeling  face  of  my  watch. 
I  allowed  the  full  time  and  went  back. 

Professor  Simpson  was  still  arguing.  I 
concluded,  comfortably,  that  his  argument 
had  not,  as  yet,  convinced  Mrs.  Mink. 
They  stood  by  the  rail,  near  the  straining 
rope  that  fastened  the  yacht  to  the  bank. 

"Professor,"  I  called,  "your  time's  up. 
I'm  coming  aboard." 

He  raised  his  hands.  He  was  excited. 
He  cried : 

"I  have  not  concluded !  Mrs.  Mink !  A 
few  moments  more!  No,  no!  I  refuse  to 
be  interrupted." 


Second  Adventure  55 

Mrs.  Mink  said  nothing.  Her  expression 
of  face  was  the  expression  of  an  interested 
spectator.  It  seemed  to  say :  "Which  of  you 
is  going  to  do  something?"  I  went  toward 
the  bridge.  He  wrung  his  hands.  His  ex 
citement  became  intense. 

"It  is  critical,  sir,  critical !  Your  conduct 
is  inconsiderate,  offensive!  I  insist!" 

Suddenly  he  disappeared  below  the  rail. 

He  rose  again.  An  axe  was  aloft  in  both 
his  hands.  He  rushed  at  the  rope.  He 
struck!  The  miserable  little  pirate!  He 
chopped  the  rope,  the  infinitesimal  assassin ! 

The  yacht  keeled  over,  under  pressure  of 
the  gale,  and  Mrs.  Mink  and  Professor 
Simpson  disappeared.  Probably  they  slid 
to  the  other  side.  The  bridge  was  dragged 
after  the  yacht.  I  was  nearly  on  it,  and  all 
but  pitched  from  the  bank  into  the  water. 
Norah  sat  up  and  yelled.  The  green  parrot 
climbed  down  and  swore.  The  Violetta  re 
gained  her  level  and  drifted  rapidly  away. 

I  picked  up  the  axe  that  had  been  used  to 


56  Second  Adventure 

fell  the  palm  trees,  and  ran  along  the  shore. 
It  was  an  action  not  suited  to  my  physique. 
I  had  to  stop  and  take  breath. 

"However,"  I  reflected,  "he's  done  for 
himself.  Mrs.  Mink  won't  stand  for  it. 
Or— or,  will  she?" 

At  the  same  time  I  did  not  like  a  rival  so 
fertile  in  expedients,  nor  the  fact  that  he 
and  Mrs.  Mink  were  both  Presbyterians. 

The  yacht  was  not  driving  in  the  direction 
of  the  open  sea,  but  across  the  bay,  nearly 
toward  the  spot  where  Professor  Simpson 
and  I  had  had  our  first  altercation. 


CHAPTER  VII 
Cbfrfc  BDventure 

WHEN  I  reached  the  place,  the  prow 
of  the  Violetta  had  already  run 
aground,  and  the  stern  had  swung  about, 
dragging  the  attached  tree  trunks  after  it, 
so  that  the  yacht  lay  in  something  like  its 
former  position,  parallel  to  the  shore,  but 
further  off,  the  shelve  being  here  more 
gradual.  Moreover,  she  was  now  on  a 
windward  shore,  the  waves  of  considerable 
height  and  force,  and,  being  balanced,  so  to 
speak,  on  her  keel,  she  oscillated,  descending 
now  on  this  side  toward  the  shore,  now  on 
that  side  away  from  me,  through  an  arc  of 
some  forty  degrees.  The  situation  I  beheld 
with  mingled  emotions,  both  soothed  and 
lacerated,  soothed  on  account  of  Professor 
Simpson's  condign  punishment,  lacerated  on 
account  of  Mrs.  Mink.  Their  cries  were 
57 


58  Third  Adventure 

heard  above  the  tumult.  They  clung  to  the 
landward  rail,  which  went  up  and  down  like 
a  teeter,  or  a  ducking  stool,  regular  as  a 
pendulum,  terrific,  but  distressing. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  doctor,  do  some 
thing!"  cried  Mrs.  Mink;  and  Professor 
Simpson  shrieked:  "Can  you  not  assist?  I 
entreat!  I  adjure!  Do  not " 

He  was  interrupted. 

Something  had  to  be  done. 

The  two  tree  trunks  attached  to  the  stern 
had  been  driven  about,  so  that  the  butts 
rested  on  the  bottom,  in  the  midst  of  the 
surf.  Being  dragged  back  and  forth  by  the 
motion  of  the  yacht,  and  at  the  same  time 
tossed  by  the  surf,  the  result  was  a  some 
what  complicated  motion.  To  get  through 
the  surf  was  no  great  difficulty,  for  two 
hundred  and  odd  pounds  of  determination. 
But  to  draw  the  butts  together,  to  climb 
them  beyond  reach  of  the  surf,  to  maintain 
the  uneasy  position  so  gained,  astride  those 
two  insane,  rotatory,  and  indecorous  poles, — 


Third  Adventure 


wabbled,  danced,  dandled,  jerked  about  in 
the  air  by  that  eccentric  and  careening  via 
duct,  whose  leaps,  halts,  and  rebounds 
resembled  the  kicking  of  a  restive  mule  or  a 
series  of  railroad  collisions—  this  was 
achievement,  this  was  a  goal  and  effort 
worthy  of  a  man  ! 

I  succeeded.     Clinging  to  the  logs  with 
hands  and  knees,  I  looked  up.     Mrs.  Mink 
and  the  professor  hung  over  the  shattered 
rail  above  me.     I  shouted  : 
"Come  on  !     I'll  meet  you." 
"But  I  can't  walk  that!"  she  called  back. 
"It  doesn't  keep  still." 

"Walk  it!     No!"  I  roared.     "Creep  it, 
madam!    Shin  it!    Roll  it!    Come  anyway! 
and  don't  fall  off." 
She  laughed. 

Admirable  woman!  For  self-possession, 
spirit,  and  sense,  where  is  her  equal?  She 
mounted,  clung,  approached.  I  clasped  her, 
slid  back  to  the  edge  of  the  surf,  lifted  her, 
rushed,  waded,  forced  my  way  to  land.  She 


60  Third  Adventure 

was  wet.  I  was  winded.  I  admit  both. 
Stretched  on  the  ground  I  felt  particularly 
indifferent  to  any  accident,  to  anything 
whatever,  that  might  happen  to  Professor 
Simpson.  Suddenly  I  was  aware  of  him. 
Cast  up  by  an  ebullient  wave,  he  sprawled  on 
the  shore  and  sprang  to  his  feet,  crying, 

"A  miraculous  escape !  I  would  not  have 
believed  myself  so  agile." 

Mrs.  Mink  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us,  and  began  to  laugh. 

"I  am  delighted,"  he  said,  shaking  him 
self,  "my  dear  Rebecca,  to  see  you  in  such 
composure." 

I  got  up.     I  spoke  with  dignity. 

"Do  I  understand,  sir,  that  you've  profited 
by  your  treachery?" 

He  looked  disturbed. 

"Mrs.  Mink  has — nevertheless  I  am  not 
without " 

I  interrupted  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Mink. 

"You  approved  of  this  gentleman's  be 
haviour?" 


Third  Adventure  61 

"What  behaviour?  Well!  It  was  bright 
of  him,  anyway." 

"You  knew  of  the  agreement  between 
us?" 

"Of  course,  you  were  going  to  propose  to 
me  next.  Fiddlesticks !  You've  done  that 
before  ?  What  made  you  let  him  come  first  ? 
You  shouldn't  let  people  run  over  you." 

"You  were  to  reserve  your  decision, 
madam." 

"Humph!  I  didn't  agree  to  that.  Per 
haps  he's  willing  to  begin  over  again." 

Professor  Simpson  started. 

"Mrs.  Mink  speaks  in  jest.  It  would  be 
unprecedented,  impossible."  We  paused. 

"Well  ?"  said  Mrs.  Mink. 

"Well,  madam?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"I  see  you  like  men  of  strenuous  action, 
Mrs.  Mink,"  I  said.  "Would  it,  do  you 
think  ?  would  it  insinuate  me  somewhat  into 
your  favour  if  I  were  to  take  this  axe  and 
strenuously  chop  Professor  Simpson's  head 


62  Third  Adventure 

in     two     symmetrical     but     characteristic 

parts?" 

Professor  Simpson  looked  aghast. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Mrs.  Mink. 

"Not  feasible,  you  think?  Perhaps  not. 
Suppose,  then,  I  were  to  cut  a  switch  and 
apply  it  to  Professor  Simpson's  attenuated 
legs.  Could  you  candidily  recommend  that, 
Mrs.  Mink?" 

"I  will  not  submit,  sir !"  he  cried.  "I  will 
not  submit!" 

Mrs.    Mink   turned   and  walked   rapidly 

away. 

"Professor,"  I  said,  taking  out  my  water 
proof  match-safe  and  extracting  several 
matches,  "you  will  take  these  matches  and 
see  that  Mrs.  Mink  is  comfortable.  Our 
rescuers  will  find  us  in  time,  no  doubt.  Un 
til  then  you  will  respect  my  privacy.  I  seek 
no  revenge  and  offer  no  congratulations.  I 
don't  inquire  into  your  standards  of  in 
tegrity.  I  don't  see,  unless  your  system  of 
ethics  is  fundamentally  unsound,  how  you 


Third  Adventure  63 

can  reconcile  to  morality  this  reward  of 
victorious  evil.  But  I  leave  it  to  your 
casuistry." 

It  seemed  to  me  this  was  a  poisoned  arrow 
well  planted.  I  had  set  him  a  problem  likely 
to  irritate  his  exact  mind.  I  picked  up  the 
axe  and  walked  up  the  shore  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

The  afternoon  was  growing  late.  I  kin 
dled  a  fire  to  dry  my  clothes,  felled  a  banana 
tree,  and  ate  bananas.  Across  the  bay  I 
could  make  out  the  smoke  of  the  other  camp 
fire.  The  Violetta  still  swayed  back  and 
forth,  but  not  so  violently,  on  her  keel.  The 
wind  still  blew,  but  the  air  was  warm.  I  sat 
by  the  fire  and  took  inventory  of  things  in 
general. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
professor  Simpson  Bgatn 

AEQUAM  memento,"  I  reflected,  "re 
bus  in  arduis." 

After  all,  marriage  would  disturb  my  pur 
suits.     A  man  with  a  liquid  and  non-resist 
ant  name  like  "Ulswater,"  with  a  fleshy  and 
floating  physique,  with  a  mind  as  full  of 
refuse    as    a    sargasso    sea,    and    whiskers 
resembling  sargasso,— when  he  proposes  to 
ally  himself  in  marriage  to  a  woman  like 
Mrs.  Mink,  whose  rational  instincts— as  a 
capable  and  neat  housekeeper— would  be  to 
trim  his  whiskers  and  rearrange  his  nature, 
to  tidy  up  his  mind  and  sweep  it,  hang  anti 
macassars  over  its  chairs,  polish  its  andirons, 
fling  the  cuspidor  out  of  the  window,  and 
can  the  tropical  fruitage  of  his  character  into 
jellies  and  jams  in  glass  jars  with  screw  tops 

64 


Professor  Simpson  Again       65 

and  rubber  bands, — when  such  a  man  has  in 
mind  such  an  alliance,  if  fate  prevents,  if  an 
agile  Presbyterian  professor  is  one  too  many 
for  him,  what  should  he  do  but  remark, 
"Aequam  memento  rebus  in  arduis  servare 
mentem,"  that  is,  "In  trouble  take  it  easy," 
and  then  immediately  proceed  to  swear  him 
self  black  in  the  face,  and  wish  for  a  green 
and  red  parrot  to  take  up  the  job  after 
him? 

Precisely.  Also  I  dried  my  clothes  and 
whistled.  Time  passed  on,  and  it  was  per 
haps  six  o'clock.  Suddenly,  as  I  looked  up, 
Professor  Simpson  stood  before  me,  alone. 

"Professor,"  I  said,  "you  intrude." 

He  seated  himself  on  the  fallen  trunk  of 
the  banana  tree. 

"I  am  compelled  to  do  so,"  he  said. 
"Mrs.  Mink  objects  to  the  present  arrange 
ment;  whether  on  the  score  of  propriety,  or 
because  she  regards  my  protection  as  inade 
quate,  I  cannot  say,  I  refuse  to  discuss.  It 
is  a  matter,  in  either  case,  humiliating  to  my- 


66       Professor  Simpson  Again 

self.  She  demands  the  return  of  Dr.  Uls- 
water." 

"I  c  m  sorry  for  Mrs.  Mink's  feelings,"  I 
said,  "but  I  seem  to  see  a  lack  of  considera 
tion  for  mine." 

"I  have  stated  Mrs.  Mink's  attitude  with 
out  commenting  upon  it,"  he  went  on.  "As 
regards  my  own,  there  is  much  more  to  be 
said.  I  cannot  conceal  from  myself  that  the 
terms  you  have  applied  to  my  late  ill-regu 
lated  conduct  would,  if  properly  qualified 
apd  defined,  in  the  main  be  just.  I  am, 
further,  upon  Mrs.  Mink's  own  declaration, 
forced  to  believe  that  her  consent  not  for  the 
present  to  decline  my  suit,  but  to  consider  it, 
perhaps  favourably,  was  entirely  due  to  that 
very  action  which  my  conscience  compels  me 
to  deplore.  She  was  attracted  by  that  very 
deviation  from  rectitude  into  which  I  was 
tempted  and  fell.  She  states  that  she  was 
about  to  decline  my  proposal  absolutely, 
finally,  when  my  action  revealed  to  her  my 
character,  as  she  says,  in  a  new  light.  Not 


Professor  Simpson  Again       67 

to  my  position  in  the  scientific  world,  my 
well-earned  repute,  not  to  my  worthier 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  not  to  her  con 
viction  of  these  claims,  can  her  capitulation 
— if  such  it  was — be  attributed.  You  will 
understand  my  distress  at  this  admission 
made  by  Mrs.  Mink.  I  fear  to  infer,  and 
yet  I  must  infer,  a  want  of  seriousness,  of 
strict  conscience,  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Mink. 
I  showed  her  my  distress,  I  intimated  my 
fear,  I  begged  her  to  allay  it,  to  consider,  to 
recollect  the  facts  more  carefully.  She  be 
came  angry  and  asked  if  I  repented  cutting 
the  rope.  I  defined  my  position.  She  in 
terrupted,  refused  to  listen,  and  said  that  my 
proposal  was  now  declined.  I  endeavoured 
to  reason,  to  supplement  argument  by  argu 
ment.  She  prevented  me;  she  commanded 
me  to  go  and  insist  on  Dr.  Ulswater's  re 
turn.  Such  has  been  my  recent  painful  con 
versation  with  Mrs.  Mink,  concluding  with 
the  command  which  has  caused  this  in 
trusion  upon  you." 


68        Professor  Simpson  Again 

"Don't  apologise,"  I  said,  gaily,  getting 
up.  "You  repent  and  withdraw,  I  forgive 
and  forget." 

"I  have  admitted  repentance  but  not  with 
drawal,"  he  said,  angrily,  "and  I  refuse  your 
impertinent  forgiveness." 

"Come  along,  professor,"  I  said.  "Re 
fuse  and  admit  what  you  like  till  the  crack  of 
doom.  I've  got  business  on  hand." 

He  followed  after  dejectedly. 

As  we  drew  near,  we  saw  Mrs.  Mink,  with 
Norah,  standing  on  the  high  bank  and  look 
ing  seaward.  She  saw  us,  cried  out,  pointed, 
and  waved  her  handkerchief.  A  small  steam 
vessel  was  entering  the  bay.  It  was  Captain 
Jansen  and  the  crew  looking  for  us  and  for 
the  vagrant  Violetta. 


CHAPTER  IX 
Conclusion  of  Dr.  'dtewater's  ff irst  d&anuecrtpt 

THE  Violetta  was  towed  out  into  deep 
water.  Captain  Jansen  used  some 
badly  broken  English  on  the  condition  of  his 
starboard  rail.  Not  but  that  he  had  ex 
pected  more  damage  than  he  found,  but 
damaging  a  ship  by  chopping  a  tree  down 
upon  her,  hurt  him  in  a  sensitive  point  of 
seamanship. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  leakage,  for  all 
that  war-dance  with  the  elements,  and  mad 
teetering  on  a  windward  shore.  Still  he 
preferred  to  pass  the  night  in  the  bay — the 
weather  being  uncertain — and  tow  the  Vio 
letta  on  the  morrow  to  St.  Pierre  for  re 
pairs. 

It  was  evening,  and  I  stood  watching  the 
moon  rise  peacefully  and  look  down  on  the 
gleaming  but  troubled  waters  of  the  little 
69 


70    Conclusion  of  First  Manuscript 

bay.  Placid  and  poetic  she  went  up  among 
her  attendant  stars.  The  wooded  shore  lay 
about  us  dark  and  mysterious. 

"Let  me,"  I  said  to  myself,  "recapitulate. 
Presbyterianism  is  insufficient.  Scientific 
celebrity  is  insufficient.  The  precise  con 
science  and  balance  of  rectitude  are  to  the 
lover  as  a  wire  twitchup  to  the  hungry  rab 
bit.  Action,  sharp  decision,  the  habit,  so  to 
speak,  of  getting  there,  these  are  what  ap 
peal  to  Mrs.  Mink." 

Now,  along  those  lines  Professor  Simp 
son  was  no  slouch  of  a  rival.  In  point  of 
character  he  was  hard  as  nails;  in  decision 
and  action  he  was  energetic  and  exact.  Yet 
he  had  failed.  He  had  speared  himself,  as 
it  were,  on  the  angle  of  an  impractical  con 
science.  But  where  did  I  come  in?  I,  who 
in  point  of  character  was  a  semiliquid  jelly 
fish,  an  invertebrate  protozoan,  whose  nature 
was  to  float  on  the  heaving  and  uncertain 
sea  of  humour,  bathed  in  the  moonlight  of 
poetry,  devouring  the  chance  drift  of  knowl- 


Conclusion  of  First  Manuscript    71 

edge,  sucking  philosophy  out  of  rock;  whose 
centre  of  personality  was  loose;  whose  mind 
was  as  untidy  as  a  cuttlefish;  how  could  I 
appeal  to  Mrs.  Mink?  On  the  evidence  so 
far,  I  had  but  one  strong  point,  namely  a 
practical  conscience,  a  conscience  which, 
having  always  treated  me  with  a  great  deal 
of — shall  I  say,  with  a  great  deal  of  tact  ? — 
was  a  conscience  that 

At  this  point  in  my  reflection  Mrs.  Mink 
came  on  deck. 

When  doubtful  in  whist,  play  trumps. 
When  doubtful  in  any  other  situation, 
ask  Mrs.  Mink.  Her  counsel  is  always 
trumps. 

"Mrs.  Mink,"  I  said,  as  she  came  and 
stood  beside  me  at  the  rail,  "I  am  in  doubt." 

"What  about?" 

"The  question  is  this :  If  a  disorderly  cut 
tlefish  has  proposed  marriage  to  one  of  those 
small  neat  birds  who  yet  have  the  knack  of 
making  themselves  at  home  in  a  wilderness 
of  waves,  and  by  sailors  are  called  'Mother 


72    Conclusion  of  First  Manuscript 

Carey's  chickens';  if  so  far  as  the  cuttlefish 
can  see  he  has  only  succeeded  in  producing 
in  Mother  Carey's  chicken  a  state  of  uncon 
vinced  reflection;  if  he  knows  his  structure 
to  be  floppy  and  his  nature  sloppy,  what,  in 
fact,  do  you  think  he  should  do?" 

"I  don't  think  you're  a  cuttlefish." 

"Ha!     I  don't  insist  on  the  figure." 

"You're  dreadfully  untidy." 

"I  am." 

Mrs.  Mink  was  silent. 

"Should  I  imitate  Professor  Simpson  to 
the  summit  of  Presbyterianism,  or  a  green 
parrot  to  the  bottom  of  reprobation? 
Should  I " 

"I  don't  like  Professor  Simpson,  or  the 
green  parrot  either." 

"Well,  then,  what  do  you  think  we  had 
better  do  next?" 

Mrs.  Mink  was  long  silent.  At  last  she 
said,  thoughtfully: 

"I  think  we'd  better  go  to  Trinidad." 

"What  for?" 


Conclusion  of  First  Manuscript    73 

"Why,  they're  English  in  Trinidad,  aren't 
they?" 

"Good  God,  madam !  what  if  they  are?" 

"You  mustn't  talk  that  way!"  she  said, 
sharply.  "Of  course  Catholics  may  be 
good  men,  but,  still,  I  shouldn't  like  it  in 
French." 

"Like  what?" 

"We'd  better  be  married  in  Trinidad." 

There  you  are,  satisfactory,  inclusive, 
concise !  I  ask :  "How  shall  I  attain  my 
soul's  desire?"  She  answers:  "Be  married 
in  Trinidad." 

We  left  Professor  Simpson  at  St.  Pierre. 
He  was  intending  to  climb  Mont  Pelee  and 
extract  knowledge  from  its  oracular  mouth. 
If  that  solemn,  grim,  stony,  and  sometimes 
irascible  sphinx  of  a  volcano  started  in  to 
talk  to  him,  it's  possible  that  the  volcano 
had  the  last  of  the  argument.  Perhaps  not. 
I  haven't  heard.  He  was  a  very  persistent 
logician.  Maybe  he  meant  to  cast  himself 
forlornly  into  the  crater.  The  idea  is 


74    Conclusion  of  First  Manuscript 

luminous,   romantic.      But  I  think,   on  the 
whole,  that  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Mrs.  Mink  says  she  would  never  have  ac 
cepted  him,  and  was  merely  vexed  to  see  him 
outwit  me,  which  it  must  be  admitted  he  did. 
But  my  feelings  are  like  those  of  a  man  who 
has  succeeded  by  a  narrow  margin. 

We  lie  now  in  harbour  at  Trinidad,  whose 
green  hills  rise  sumptuously  out  of  the  blue 
of  the  Caribbean.  The  future  promises  all 
happiness  and  varied  interests;  among 
which  interests,  I  suspect,  will  be  the  coming 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  masterly  reorganisation  of 
me.  Do  I  flatter  myself,  or  does  she,  as  it 
almost  seems,  look  forward  to  that  task  with 
real  enthusiasm  ?  Wonderful  woman ! 

Adieu — ULSWATER. 

P.  S.  The  argument  from  analogy  was 
the  sound  one — the  tropics,  the  temperate 
zone,  and  the  intentions  of  Providence. 
Convince  her  of  your  imperative  need  of  her, 
and  you  have  made  the  imperative  appeal. 
So  far  I  see. 


CHAPTER  X 

SeconD  Document.   Dr.  "CUswater's  IRarratfve 
Continues:  Susannab 

MALAY  PENINSULA,  June. 

FOREVER  shall  my  voice  bear  testi 
mony  to  Mrs.  Ulswater.  She  has 
gathered  the  races  about  her  knee.  The 
races  didn't  all  stay  there,  but  it's  just  as 
well  they  didn't.  She  has  faced  the  hoary 
wisdom  of  the  East,  and  subdued  it.  At 
the  present  writing  Wisdom  still  acts  as  if 
he  felt  subdued. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  was  impatient  to  reach  the 
far  eastern  mission  field.  She  wished  to  see 
in  action  the  process  by  which  people,  whose 
souls  were  naturally  darkened  by  the  opaque 
ness  of  their  skins,  become  enlightened. 
This  opinion  as  to  the  origin  of  idolatry  I 
drew  from  Mrs.  Ulswater  with  some  dif 
ficulty.  She  held  the  theory,  indeed,  dimly, 
subconsciously.  It  was  new  to  me.  It  is  a 
75 


76  Susannah 


theory  worth  examining  for  its  latent  mysti 
cism.  To  what  does  it  logically  lead?  If 
intelligence  tends  to  increase  with  the  trans 
parency  of  the  fleshly  integument,  wouldn't 
I  be  cleverer  if  not  so  fat?  C'est  un  grand 
peut-etre.  But  I'm  getting  thinner.  Bis- 

millah ! 

I  have  in  my  life  pursued  many  ideals.  I 
have  hitched  my  wagon  to  certain  stars. 
Some  of  the  blanked  things  were  comets, 
and  some  of  them  went  out  as  unregretted 
as  a  bad  cigar.  Now  I  cling  henceforward 
to  this  domestic  light  and  floating  fireside  of 
the  Violetta.  No  man  has  so  entire  a  foot 
ing  in  the  universe  as  he  whose  stockings  are 
darned  by  a  woman  with  a  logical  mind.  I 
am  not  myself  a  vertebrate.  Mrs.  Ulswater 
is  my  complement.  I  am  complete.  I  am 
satisfied.  I  am  at  rest. 

My  family  has  increased.  It  now  con 
sists  of  Mrs.  Ulswater,  an  orphan  girl, 
and  an  orphan  pundit.  But  I  go  too 
fast. 


Susannah  77 

On  the  1 3th  of  last  April,  we  put  in  at  the 
island  of  Clementina,  which  lies  to  the  north 
of  Mozambique  Channel. 

"Now,"  said  I  to  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "I  am 
complete.  I  am  satisfied.  I  am  at  rest. 
But  why  Clementina  ?" 

I  was  presented  with  and  referred  to  a 
pamphlet  or  periodical,  in  fact,  a  quarterly. 
It  appeared  to  be  devoted  to  the  reports  of 
missionary  labours.  It  is  a  branch  of  litera 
ture  never  by  me  thoroughly  investigated. 
Mrs.  Ulswater  has  a  remarkable  series  of 
these  pamphlets,  covering  more  than  ten 
years.  A  veritable  find ! 

Now,  in  this  number  of  the  periodical  in 
question,  about  two  years  old,  was  an  illus 
trated  article  by  one  Mr.  Tupper,  a  mission 
ary,  describing  an  orphan-asylum  in  the 
island  of  Clementina,  and  ah !  so  feelingly, 
with  such  pleasant  details  of  the  names  and 
prospects  of  individual  orphans,  that  I 
quickly  shared  the  interest  of  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
We  wished  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 


j  8  Susannah 


following  orphans,  to  wit,  the  orphan  named 
"Susannah,"  the  orphan  named  "Thaddeus," 
and  the  orphan  named  "James,"  and  the 
orphans  "Caleb,"  "Zillah,"  "Stephen,"  and 
"Naomi,"  these  apparently  being  the  seven 
beneficiaries  of  the  establishment. 

"Susannah,"  wrote  Mr.  Tupper,  "is  char 
acterised  by  great  vigour  of  mind,  and  by 
astuteness,    if    not    perhaps    by    invariable 
serenity.     She  is  the  daughter  of  the  late 
Rev.  Mr.  Romney  of  Georgia,  U.  S.  A.,  my 
predecessor  at  this  mission,  who  with  his 
devoted  wife  died  of  an  epidemic  fever  some 
eight  years  ago.     Upon  my  arrival  I  found 
the  orphans  in  a  state  most  distressingly  un 
civilised.     There  are  perils  in  this  remote 
corner  of  the  world,  but  hunger  and  cold  are 
not  among  them.     Little  shelter  is  neces 
sary,  and  food  is  to  be  had  for  the  taking. 
Physically,  a  child  can  grow  up  and  thrive 
almost  unregarded."     And  so  on —most  in 
teresting  remarks  by  Mr.  Tupper. 

Clementina  looked  like  a  comfortable  is- 


Susannah 


land.  We  recognised  the  port,  and  the  high 
green  hill,  which  the  illustrations  pictured  as 
the  site  of  the  mission. 

The  Violetta  was  anchored  not  far  from 
the  shore.  Mrs.  Ulswater  and  I  were  landed 
on  the  white  beach  under  the  hill.  We 
climbed  the  hill.  "On  the  very  crest,"  in 
the  words  of  Mr.  Tupper's  description,  stood 
"a  cluster  of  bamboo  cottages  hidden  in 
foliage."  The  Asylum! 

Horribile  dictu! 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "I  never!" 

The  cottages  were  empty !  Nay,  ruined, 
decadent,  most  of  the  roofs  fallen!  Eight 
decrepit  bamboo  structures  in  a  row!  The 
traces  of  a  lawn,  now  faded  into  wilderness ! 
Oh,  neglect  and  desolation !  What  had  we 
here?  An  orphaned  orphanage!  Most 
ridiculous  of  asylums ! 

A  hen  fled  yelling  across  the  open.  In 
the  wake  of,  in  pursuit  of,  this  hen,  there 
rapidly  wriggled  out  of  the  thicket  seven 
scratched,  and  scarcely  to  be  called  clothed, 


8o  Susannah 


individuals.    My  impression  was  immediate. 
I  said,  "They  are  the  orphans!" 

They  were.  They  sprang  up  in  line. 
They  bowed.  They  shouted  with  remark 
able  unison : 

"Good  morning,  sir!  Good  morning, 
ma'am!" 

We  gasped.  We  were  astounded.  "Well," 
said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "I  never!" 

They  began  to  sing.  They  sang,  in  point 
of  fact,  as  follows : 

"  Pull  for  the  shore,  sailor! 
Pull  for  the  shore!  " 

all  except  for  one  orphan,  from  whose 
rounded  mouth  detonated  the  statement, 
"I'm  a  pilgrim,  I'm  a  stranger,"  whose 
globular  face  was  slapped  with  incredible 
rapidity  by  the  girl  who  stood  next  him,  at 
the  head  of  the  line,  and  who  sang  on  im 
periously,  though  the  rest  of  the  chorus 
broke  down : 

41  Heed  not  the  rolling  waves, 
But  bend  to  the  oar." 


Susannah  8 1 


She  had  lank  limbs,  and  the  unmistakable 
features  of  an  Aryan.  I  should  have  de 
scribed  her  offhand  as  a  "personage." 

"Susannah!"  cried  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
"Don't  tell  me  you're  not!" 

"Present !"  said  Susannah. 

"Thaddeus?" 

''Present !"  from  the  globular  pilgrim  and 
stranger. 

"James?" 

"Present!" 

James  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  line. 
He  was  the  smallest,  Susannah  the  tallest, 
and  Thaddeus  the  fattest  of  the  orphans. 

"Caleb?" 

"Present!" 

"Naomi?" 

"Present!" 

"Zillah?" 

"Present!" 

"Stephen?" 

"Present!" 

Very  good.     There  they  were. 


82  Susannah 


But  alas!  it  was  a  run-down,  abandoned 
asylum.  Mr.  Tupper,  that  talented  descrip 
tive  author,  had  died  some  six  months  be 
fore,  of  the  fever  that  seemed  to  be  resident, 
or  sporadic,  in  the  island. 

I  discovered,  at  Port  Clementina,  a  sort  of 
governor  or  prefect,  who  seemed  to  be  of 
ficially  resident,  and  by  nature  sporadic, 
incidental.  He  was  the  calmest  official  in 
the  Indian  Ocean.  There  were  vast  vacant 
spaces  in  his  mind.  He  did  not  know  there 
were  any  orphans  now  at  the  asylum.  He 
had  understood  there  wasn't  any  asylum 
left.  In  any  case,  why  not?  In  every  con 
ceivable  case,  why  not?  He  had  supposed 
they  had  all  grown  up,  or  disappeared,  or 
fallen  off  something,  or  died  of  the  fever,  or 
snakes,  or  been  adopted  by  natives,  or  some 
thing.  Why  not  ?  In  point  of  fact,  now  he 
came  to  think  of  it,  he  had  not  supposed  any 
thing  about  it  whatever.  Were  they  indeed 
still  running  around  up  there?  Name  of 
God !  How  amusing ! 


Susannah  83 


Mrs.  Ulswater  was  indignant. 

The  population  of  Clementina  is  of  ex 
tremely  mixed  blood.  That  Susannah  was 
of  Caucasian  extraction — age  fifteen  or  so; 
that  Thaddeus  also  was  of  some  northern 
ancestry,  by  his  light  hair,  high  cheek-bones, 
and  slightly  piggy  eyes;  that  James  was  a 
diminutive  Malayan — as  I  judged — age  per 
haps  eight;  and  the  rest  miscellaneous  Afri 
can,  Arab,  French,  and  what  not — all  this 
argues  a  curious  history  for  the  island; 
which  history  I  had  no  time  to  inves 
tigate,  on  account  of  Mrs.  Ulswater's 
indignation. 

Under  the  force  of  this  indignation  the 
orphans  were  swept  swiftly  aboard  the 
Violetta.  The  hen,  above  mentioned,  also 
came  along  with  the  current.  The  name  of 
the  hen  is  "Georgiana  Tupper."  Mrs.  Uls 
water  accomplished  it  in  this  way.  She 
made  an  alliance  with  Susannah.  The  or 
phans  were  promptly  aboard.  Again,  good ! 
There  they  were. 


84  Susannah 


The  following  morning  they  weren't. 
We  found  only  Susannah  still  with  us  and 
Georgiana  Tupper.  The  rest  were  gone, 
vanished  forever.  Captain  Jansen  ap 
proached  us,  and  touched  his  cap. 

"Yes,  'm.  They  yump;  I  hear  'em  go 
yump,  one,  two,  dree,  four,  six,  un  I  get  out 
dey  boat,  un  dose  gone  swim  ashore,  un  her 
don'  yump.  I  don'  know." 

Mrs.  Uls water  turned  on  Susannah. 

"What  made  them  jump?" 

Said  Susannah:  "They  ain't  any  good, 
those  niggers.  They're  'fraid." 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"Oh,  they're  just  'fraid  to  go.  Their  in- 
sides  are  all  mush  and  dassent." 

"You're  not  afraid,  Susannah?" 

"Me!" 

Singular,  scornful  maid ! 

We  were  unable  to  find  the  miscellaneous 
again.  Apparently  they  hid,  preferring  the 
incidental  or  sporadic  life  of  Clementina. 
With  this  diminished  orphanage,  we  set 


Susannah  85 


over  the  Indian  Ocean,  seeking  another 
asylum  for  Susannah. 

I  found  at  Clementina  a  curious  variety  of 
the  Asteroidea  or  star  fish. 

You  never  saw  the  beat  of  Susannah. 


CHAPTER  XI 
IRam 


IT  was  at  Colombo  in  Ceylon  that  we  met 
with  Ram  Nad.     I  asked  for  him  in  the 
market  place,  and  found  him.     He  was  sit 
ting  on  a  cobblestone,  and  leaning  over  his 
basket,  asleep. 

My  acquaintance  with  Ram  Nad  began 
many  years  ago.  Somewhere  in  my  indef 
inite  and  unmapped  past,  I  once  lived  on  the 
island  of  Ceylon,  and  knew  Ram  Nad.  He 
was  by  faith  a  Buddhist,  by  nature  a  pains 
taking  liar,  by  profession  a  medical  practi 
tioner,  or  quasi-physician,  —  not  of  the 
allopathic  school,  nor  of  the  homeopathic, 
but  of  the  heteropathic  and  absurd.  But  he 
practised  sleight-of-hand  tricks  and  mesmer 
ism  in  a  manner  that  roused  my  profound 
respect.  We  exchanged  informations,  and  I 
had  a  great  affection  for  him  in  those  days. 
86 


Ram  Nad  87 


Even  then  he  looked  like  a  mixture  of  Abra 
ham  and  an  early  Christian  martyr,  with 
some  resemblance  to  a  sheep. 

I  took  him  aboard  the  Violctta  in  order  to 
get  his  advice  respecting  the  orphan-asylums 
of  his  native  land. 

Ram  Nad  already  knew  himself  to  be 
more  vertebrate  and  sagacious  than  I,  but  he 
did  not  know  Mrs.  Ulswater. 

The  harbour  at  Colombo  is  no  harbour, 
but  an  open  roadstead,  though  quiet  at  that 
time. 

"  The  spicy  breezes  blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle, 
And  every  prospect  pleases,  and  only  man  is  vile." 

The  hymnal  says  so,  but  I  don't  agree  with 
it.  Three-quarters  of  Ceylon  is  an  abomina 
tion  of  swamp,  sand,  and  jungle,  with  a  most 
pestilential  and  vile  climate;  whereas  the 
normal  Cingalese  person  is  the  mildest,  most 
peaceful  and  pious  agriculturist  that's  to  be 
found. 

Ram  Nad  wore  a  blue  head  cloth.     The 
rest  of  his  clothes  were  meant  to  be  white, 


88  Ram  Nad 


like  his  beard.  He  squatted  behind  his 
basket.  Mrs.  Ulswater  rocked  in  her  rock 
ing-chair,  knitting,  looking  at  Ram  Nad  as 
if  she  did  not  make  out  how  to  begin  benefit 
ing  him.  She  examined  Ram  Nad,  who  in 
turn  examined  Susannah,  who  in  turn  was, 
at  that  moment,  playing  jackstraws. 

Ram  Nad  said  there  were  no  orphan- 
asylums  in  Ceylon  that  he  could  truly  recom 
mend,  which  sounded  conscientious. 

He  continued :  But  for  himself,  he  said,  he 
was  a  lonely  man;  desolate  and  empty  was 
his  house  of  the  beautiful  gardens;  he  was 
desirous  of  children  in  his  old  age.  The  ex 
cellent  Mrs.  Ulswater — might  her  benevo 
lence  be  rewarded !  the  learned  Dr.  Ulswater 
— might  his  folly  and  ignorance  have  been 
by  time  corrected! — he  hoped  these  all 
would  understand  his  immaculate  motives. 
For  what  said  the  Great  Teacher?  "Let 
parents  train  their  children,  and  their  memo 
ries  be  honoured  by  the  same:  let  the  hus 
band  give  his  wife  kindness,  together  with 


Ram  Nad  89 


suitable  ornaments  and  clothes,  and  let  her 
be  a  thrifty  housekeeper;  finally,  let  the  pu 
pils  give  attention,  and  the  teacher  instruct 
them  in  knowledge."  The  girl,  he  said, 
pleased  him;  therefore  it  was  possible  that 
he  might  in  righteous  charity  adopt  her,  in 
struct  her.  By  a  singular  accident  he  had 
but  yesterday  taken  a  solemn  vow  to  adopt  a 
child  to  his  old  age;  many  had  been  witness 
to  this  vow. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  looked  thoughtful.  She 
rather  wanted  Susannah  brought  up  Presby 
terian.  "He  quotes  Scripture  very  well," 
she  whispered  to  me.  "It  sounds  queer,  but 
maybe  it's  his  clothes."  But  she  seemed 
disturbed,  and  looked  away  at  Susannah, 
who  played  jackstraws. 

I  reflected  vaguely  about  Ram  Nad,  on 
the  different  kinds  of  guile  he  was  equal  to, 
and  how  if  he  went  off  with  Susannah,  the 
Indian  Ocean  would  seem  less  entertaining. 
Mrs.  Ulswater  appeared  worried. 

Ram  Nad  waived  the  point,  or  appeared 


90  Ram  Nad 


to.  He  said  he  would,  if  we  liked,  display 
some  marvels  for  our  instruction,  while 
further  considering.  Then  he  opened  a  few 
common  tricks. 

He  took  Mrs.  Ulswater's  sewing,  threw 
it  over  the  rail  into  the  sea,  picked  it  out  of 
the  inner  folds  of  his  turban,  and  returned 
it.  Then  he  thrust  Mrs.  Ulswater's  knit 
ting  needles  down  my  throat  and  drew  them 
one  by  one  from  the  pit  of  my  diaphragm. 
It  seemed  so,  sufficiently  so.  In  fact,  it 
made  me  feel  unwell.  He  induced  Susan 
nah  to  enter  his  enormous  conical  basket, 
covered  her  and  stirred  inside  with  his  hand, 
with  a  violent  circular  motion,  as  one  beats 
eggs  with  a  spoon — took  off  the  cover,  dis 
closed  the  interior,  and  shook  it  bottom  up. 
No  Susannah  there ! 

He  covered  it,  stirred  again — eggs  and 
spoons — turned  it  over,  lifted  it  again. 
There  sat  Susannah  on  the  deck,  safe  but 
indignant. 

"You  punched  me!"  she  cried,  and  then 


Ram  Nad  91 


turned  distracted  to  clutch  at  the  small  of 
her  back.  Mrs.  Ulswater  came  to  her  help, 
and  unbuttoning  her  frock  took  out  the  jack- 
straws.  They  seemed  to  have  been  dropped 
down  her  neck.  Susannah  was  furious. 

Ram  Nad  next  seated  himself  opposite 
her,  and  fell  to  crooning  and  spooning  with 
both  hands — two  spoons,  infinite  eggs. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  said,  "Well,  I  never!" 
Even  I  may  possibly  have  ejaculated, 
"Ha!" 

The  eyes  of  Susannah  became  fixed,  her 
form  rigid.  Ram  Nad  stroked  his  beard,, 
Susannah  the  front  of  her  frock.  He 
sighed,  she  sighed.  "Roll!"  She  rolled; 
she  kept  on  rolling;  she  rolled  across  the 
deck  and  brought  up  in  the  scuppers,  where 
she  struggled  to  continue  rolling.  "Roll 
back!"  She  rolled  back.  "Sit  up!"  She 
sat  up.  He  fell  to  crooning  and  waving — 
reversed  spoons  and  a  reaching  after  dis 
persed  eggs.  Susannah  blinked,  relapsed, 
awoke. 


92  Ram  Nad 


Remarkable  maid,  Susannah,  strenuous, 
decided.  She  dashed  at  Ram  Nad.  She 
snatched  off  his  head  cloth.  She  flung  it  in 
his  face.  She  fled  to  Mrs.  Ulswater  and 
wept  loudly  in  her  arms. 

Ram  Nad  looked  surprised  and  partly 
martyred. 

"Nevertheless,  I  am  not  displeased,"  he 
said,  picking  up  his  head  cloth.  "I  will  take 
her  to  my  house  of  beautiful  gardens." 

"Indeed  you  won't!"  cried  Mrs.  Uls 
water.  "You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself." 

Ram  Nad  bowed  his  head,  pulled  his 
beard,  and  covered  himself  with  meekness. 
I  suggested  to  Mrs.  Ulswater  that  there  was 
a  Cingalese  point  of  view. 

"Surely,"  Ram  Nad,  ineffably  mild. 
"We  say  no  more,  excellent  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
Other  orphans  are  elsewhere  to  be  found  and 
the  vow  accomplished.  But  now,  if  per 
mitted,  I  go,  and  return  soon  with  gifts  of 
fruit  plucked  in  the  gardens  of  my  house, 


Ram  Nad  93 


that  our  happiness  may  be  complete  as  the 
meeting  of  long-parted  friends,  pleasant  as 
to  the  bee  is  the  honey  of  the  flower." 

It  was  all  gammon  about  his  house.  He 
had  no  property  except  his  trick  outfit  in  a 
basket,  his  moderate  but  amusing  clothes, 
and  a  lien  on  a  cobblestone  in  the  market. 
Mrs.  Ulswater  observed  him  quietly.  I 
didn't  make  out  what  she  thought  of  his 
handsome  remarks. 

He  was  rowed  ashore  in  the  gig,  and  came 
back  later  in  a  misshaped  Cingalese  canoe, 
kilted  fore  and  aft,  with  two  coolies  for 
rowers,  who  promptly  departed.  He  fished 
pomegranates  and  pineapples  out  of  his 
basket,  and  was  very  pleasant.  He  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  sleep  on  a  deck  rug  beneath 
our  palatial  awning.  He  said  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  country.  So  it  was,  granted 
a  rug  and  awning  were  handy.  He  talked 
a  number  of  kinds  of  gammon,  and  he  knew 
I  knew  it  was  gammon.  But,  then,  I  al 
lowed  that  a  Cingalese  of  his  age  and  ac- 


94  Ram  Nad 


quirements  had  a  right  to  be  mythological  in 
his  statements. 

Oh,  Ram  Nad,  friend  of  my  earlier  days ! 
I'm  free  to  admit  your  standards  of  virtuous 
conduct  were  ever  in  some  respects  obscure, 
not  to  say  too  much  for  me. 


CHAPTER  XII 
IRam  1Ra&t  Continued 


MY  family  at  midnight  lay  asleep  in 
their  staterooms.  The  Indian  moon 
shone  on  the  Violetta,  which  lay  lifting 
slowly  with  the  swell.  The  watchman  sat 
forward.  Ram  Nad,  with  his  chief  garment 
wrapped  about  his  head,  was  stretched  on  a 
rug  on  the  lee  side  and  just  above  the  port 
holes  of  the  stateroom  occupied  by  Susan 
nah. 

I  was  awakened  by  Mrs.  Ulswaters  sud 
denly  pulling  my  arm.  It  was  near  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"Listen!"  she  whispered.     "Now,  wait!" 

To  my  bewildered  sense  became  now 
audible  the  sound  of  soft,  regular  steps  in 
the  outer  cabin  and  on  the  cabin  stairs  lead 
ing  to  the  deck.  I  arose  softly. 

I  saw  Susannah  in  her  long  night  gar- 
95 


96          Ram  Nad,  Continued 

ment,  of  Mrs.  Ulswater's  making,  stiffly 
mounting  the  stairs  with  a  military  step !  and 
beyond  her,  on  the  moonlit  deck,  whom  but 
Ram  Nad,  white-bearded,  blue-turbaned, 
white-garmented,  beckoning,  retreating!  I 
was  about  to  advance,  when  at  that  moment 
Mrs.  Ulswater  shrieked  loudly  in  my  ear, 
and  Ram  Nad,  running  forward,  sharply 
shut  and  bolted  the  cabin  door.  An  instant's 
silence  followed,  then  shouts  and  swift  feet 
running  aft.  I  rushed  to  the  port-hole. 
Past  it  and  past  my  face  went  a  swiftly  fall 
ing  and  fluttering  body,  which  splashed  in 
the  sea.  Was  it  Ram  Nad?  Was  it  Susan 
nah?  Mrs.  Ulswater  was  beating  the  door 
with  her  hands  and  crying:  "Catch  that 
man,  Captain  Jansen !  Catch  that  man !" 
Distressing  moment!  Norah  came  from 
her  room  and  mingled  her  voice  in  the 
tumult.  But  there  we  were,  locked 
in. 

The   cabin   door   was   opened.      Captain 
Jansen's  comfortable  bearded  face  appeared, 


Ram  Nad,  Continued          97 

"Yes,  'm.  But  he  yump  for  das  boat. 
He  gone  ofer." 

"Then  catch  the  boat.     Quick !" 

"Yes,  'm.  But  I  got  das  boat  mit  un 
grapple." 

We  all  emerged  on  the  warm  night,  on 
the  moonlit  deck.  The  women  had  donned 
their  shawls.  This  was  the  situation. 

Ram  Nad's  misshaped  and  kilted  canoe 
was  held  fast,  and  one  end  lifted  from  the 
water  by  a  grappling-iron,  at  which  a  sailor 
was  tugging  with  a  rope  over  the  rail.  The 
two  black  heads  of  his  rowers  were  just 
above  the  water  at  some  distance,  moving 
hastily  shoreward,  their  wakes  shining  in 
the  moonlight.  Ram  Nad  was  nowhere  in 
sight.  Susannah  stood  on  deck,  the  watch 
man  forward  sat  stiff  and  motionless — both 
of  them  rigid,  frozen,  mesmerised,  wrapped 
up  in  his  or  her  inner  consciousness  like  a 
ball  of  yarn. 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater.  "He 
didn't  get  Susannah.  Doctor,  we  must  go 


98          Ram  Nad,  Continued 

away  from  this  place.  I  don't  like 
it." 

"We  can  weigh  anchor,"  I  said,  "surely, 
now  as  well  as  any  time.  But,  my  dear,  as 
to  these  ossified  unfortunates,  I  don't  quite 
see.  I'm  no  Ph.  D.  Mahatma,  nor  yet  a 
brindle  cat,  hell-broth  witch.  It's  mortify 
ing,  but  that's  my  limit.  I'm  not  on  to  Ram 
Nad's  spoon  motion,  nor  yet  his  lullaby. 
Hadn't  we  better  wait  and  find  another 
magician  that  knows  how  to  untwist  the 
charm?  Because  Ram  Nad  appears  to  be 
drowned,  and  these  two,  according  to  my 
notion,  are,  as  you  might  say,  tied  up  par 
ticularly  tight." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  tried  to  wake  Susannah, 
but  could  not.  She  was  indignant.  She 
thought  that  I  treated  the  subject  too  lightly, 
in  language  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of,  that 
there  was  nothing  funny  about  it.  Maybe 
not.  I  gave  it  up.  I  thought  the  situation 
was  not  without  a  certain  sepulchral  but 
natural  gayety. 


Ram  Nad,  Continued          99 

"Ashamed"  I  take  to  be  a  vertebrate  con 
dition.  I  never  could  fetch  it.  It's  left  out 
of  me.  I've  got  no  centre  of  personality, 
no  angles  to  my  circumference  on  which  to 
hitch  a  conviction  of  sin,  never  could  seem 
to  get  hold  of  that  kind  of  embarrassment. 
Calling  myself  a  series  of  conventionally 
derogatory  and  ineffective  names  is  the 
nearest  I  can  come  to  remorse.  But  speak 
ing  impersonally,  no  doubt  Mrs.  Ulswater 
was  right. 

At  this  point  Captain  Jansen  called :  "He's 
yumpin!  Yes, 'm.  He's  yump!" 

We  ran  to  the  rail.  There  Ram  Nad  sat 
in  his  kilted  canoe,  wringing  the  water  from 
his  garments. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  said,  "You  come  up  here 
right  away !" 

He  seemed  unwilling,  but  Captain  Jansen 
dropped  a  rope  ladder,  and  the  sailor  jerked 
on  the  grapnel,  rendering  his  position  un 
tenable.  He  yielded  and  came,  wearing  an 
expression  of  injured  meekness.  He  yielded 


ioo        Ram  Nad,  Continued 

to  Mrs.  Ulswater's  command.  He  spooned 
and  crooned  Susannah  and  the  watchman 
into  normal  condition,  and  retired  hastily  to 
some  distance,  holding  on  to  his  head  cloth, 
avoiding  Susannah. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  now  reduced  matters  to 
order.  The  indignant  Susannah  was  per 
suaded  to  bed.  Ram  Nad  was  put  under 
guard.  Mrs.  Ulswater  and  Norah  re 
tired. 

The  anchor  was  raised.  The  Violetta  got 
under  steam.  We  glided  away  into  the 
Indian  Ocean.  I  remained  on  deck  reflect 
ing,  inhaling  the  soft  breath  of  the  dawn, 
gazing  at  the  fair  palace  of  the  night, — how 
marvellously  roofed  and  lit,  how  floored  with 
sparkling  mosaic, — considering  two  things 
which  equally  excited  my  admiration, 
namely,  the  constitution  of  this  world  and 
Mrs.  Ulswater. 

I  conversed  with  Ram  Nad. 

As  far  as  I  could  gather  from  Ram  Nad, 
he  had  first  gotten  into  conversation  with 


Ram  Nad,  Continued        101 


the  watch,  and  mesmerised  that.  'Norwe 
gian,  after  which  he  had  hung  hhflself;d0wn: 
from  the  rail  and  mesmerised  Susannah 
through  the  port-hole.  A  subtle  perform 
ance  !  He  did  not  dare  enter  the  cabin,  hav 
ing  a  nervous  fear  of  Mrs.  Ulswater.  Mrs. 
Ulswater's  emphatic  cry  had  roused  the 
crew.  He  had  plunged  over,  and,  rising, 
clutched  the  edge  of  the  boat ;  which  being 
grappled  and  the  coolies  fled,  he  had  sub 
mitted,  first  to  concealment,  then  to  capture. 
Now, — he  continued, — were  his  excellent  in 
tentions  frustrated,  his  purposes  to  instruct 
the  damsel,  who  had  intelligence  and  tem 
perament  suitable, — excepting  that  she  was 
a  female  of  a  tiger  and  not  respectful  of 
elderly  men, — to  instruct  her  in  wisdom, 
according  to  the  Precept,  to  the  end  that 
people  might  behold  him  performing  won 
ders,  and  his  riches  increase.  But  how 
then?  The  righteous  man  endeavours. 
But  if  frustrated,  let  him  be  content.  Yet 
he  could  but  wonder  for  what  reason  he 


102        Ram  Nad,  Continued 


was  now ' 'being  carried  away,  recklessly, 
from;  Jus;,  active  land. 

I  didn't  see,  either,  why  we  were  carry 
ing  off  Ram  Nad,  but  it  seemed  to  have 
points  of  interest.  I  didn't  see  any  real  ob 
jection  to  it.  I  suggested : 

"You  don't  think  that  you  ought  to  be 
skinned  or  drowned?  Why  not?  It  de 
pends  on  Mrs.  Ulswater's  opinion.  But  see 
here,  Ram  Nad,  if  you  ever  try  to  mesmerise 
Susannah  again,  or  anybody  aboard,  I'll  see 
to  the  skinning  privately.  I'll  insert  Mrs. 
Ulswater's  knitting  needles  into  your  diges 
tion,  Susannah  shall  stuff  your  mouth  full 
of  jackstraws  and  head  cloth,  and  Mrs.  Uls- 
water  shall  make  a  Presbyterian  of  your 
mangled  remains.  You  hear  me !" 

Ram  Nad  took  oath  he  would  not. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Conclusion  of  2>r.  •QUsvvater's  Seconfc 
dfoanuscript 

PEACEFULLY  we  journey  then  over 
this  balmy  sea.  My  enlarged  fam 
ily  is  at  peace,  excepting  Susannah.  The 
meekness,  the  surprised  interest  of  Ram 
Nad  in  us,  in  our  purposes  and  his  own 
situation,  are  irresistible,  except  to  Susan 
nah.  Mrs.  Ulswater  seems  to  regard  him  as 
a  sort  of  second  orphan.  Susannah  resents 
this  idea. 

We  approach  the  Malay  Peninsula.  Ram 
Nad  sits  cross-legged  on  a  rug,  teaching 
Susannah  the  Pali  alphabet.  I  read  the 
English  poets  to  Mrs.  Ulswater,  who  sews 
garments  for  Susannah.  So  does  Susannah, 
sometimes,  with  vicious  jabs. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  does  not  attend  to  the  read 
ing.     She  has  something  on  her  mind. 
103 


104  Conclusion  of  Second  Manuscript 

"Dr.  Ulswater,"  she  says  at  last,  "is  Ram 
Nad  a  well-educated  man?" 

"My  dear,  he  knows  everything  that  I 
don't.  Therefore  he  knows  infinitely  more 
than  I  do." 

"Why  shouldn't  we  bring  up  Susannah 
among  us,  instead  of  looking  for  an  orphan 
age  any  more?" 

"Perfectly  possible." 

"Why  shouldn't  we  have  a  mission  of  our 
own  on  the  Violetta,  instead  of  hunting  for 
other  people's  missions?" 

"An  idea!" 

"Well,  then,  we  will." 

"A  sort  of  floating  mission,"  I  continue. 
"Fascinating,  unique  conception!  That  is, 
if  pursued  moderately.  The  orphans  are  a 
success,  so  far,  including — with  some  reser 
vations—Ram  Nad.  But  I  wouldn't  invest 
too  heavily,  too  rapidly,  in  orphans.  I 
would  take,  in  fact,  some  pains  to  get  hold 
of  preferred  stock." 

She  agrees  thoughtfully:  "Of  course,  the 


Con  elusion  of  Second  Manuscript  105 

Violetta  won't  hold  a  great  many.  I  should 
want  nice  ones.  That's  what  you  mean." 

"Precisely.  For  instance,  Ram  Nad  is 
more  interesting,  perhaps,  than  those  whom 
Susannah  so  forcibly  described  as  inwardly 
composed  of  'mush  and  dassent.'  " 

"Then  that's  what  we'll  do." 

I  think,  then,  with  all  deference  to  destiny, 
that  we  will. 

"I  have  sometimes  wondered,"  I  remark 
to  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "just  what  our  idea  was 
in  kidnapping  Ram  Nad — if  it  was  quite  ac 
cidental,  or  if  we  were  not,  on  that  occa 
sion — shall  we  say? — in  collusion  with 
accident." 

"Why" — Mrs.  Ulswater  returns  to  her 
sewing — "of  course !  I  thought  he  wanted 
to  steal  Susannah.  He  wasn't  a  bit  good  at 
pretending.  Goodness,  no!  But  I  didn't 
know  how  he  was  going  to  do  it,  so  I  asked 
Captain  Jansen  to  stay  awake  below.  But 
it  would  have  been  dreadful  if  Ram  Nad  had 
drowned.  I  just  let  him  try,  because,  of 


io6  Conclusion  of  Second  Manuscript 

course,  I  thought,  after  behaving  so,  he 
couldn't  say  much  if  we  carried  him 
off." 

"But  why,  at  that  time,  did  we  want  to 
carry  him  off?" 

"It  was  the  pictures  in  the  big  Bible," 
Mrs.  Ulswater  replies.  "All  the  old  men 
there  look  like  him.  I  thought  it  would  be 
nice  to  have  him." 

Such  is  our  situation.  Here  I  float  on 
Elysian  seas.  (My  next  article,  on  the 
Scaphopodae,  will  astonish  the  scientific 
world.  My  collection  of  Cephalopterae  is 
now  unique.  I  have  proved  three  mistakes 
in  Schmidt's  classification  of  the  Coelen- 
terates. ) 

ULSWATER. 

p.  s. — Ram  Nad  begs  to  remain  with  us. 
He  is  inwardly  composed  of  guile  and  gam 
mon.  Still,  like  Susannah,  he  is  in  a  way  a 
personage. 

But  suppose  Mrs.  Ulswater  learns  Orien 
tal  mesmerism  of  Ram  Nad,  and  supple- 


Conclusion  of  Second  Manuscript  107 

ments — quite  unnecessarily — by  this  means, 
her  government  of  me.     I  should  protest : 
"No,   Mrs.  Ulswater!     Not  while  I  know 
myself  master  of  this  household !" 
P.  P.  S. — Suppose  she  insists ! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Dr.  "CUswater's  Tftarratfve  Continues  : 
flslano  of  TLua 


SOUTH  PACIFIC,  January. 

MRS.  ULSWATER  has  collected 
more  orphans. 

There  are,  without  doubt,  many  methods 
of  selecting  the  beneficiaries  of  a  mission, 
asylum,  home  for  curables  or  incurables,  or 
similar  foundation.  Mrs.  Ulswater's  favour 
ite  method  seems  to  be  what  one  of  the  new 
orphans  calls  "a  coopdeetat,"  but  she  denies 
any  such  preference.  She  says  "It  happens 
so."  That  may  be,  and  yet  I  have  a  feeling 
—  a  marital  weakness  perhaps  —  that  she  has 
a  sort  of  pull,  a  secret  understanding,  so  to 
speak,  with  circumstances.  With  the  bait 
foresight,  and  the  rod  discretion,  she  catches 
the  trout  accident. 

Mrs.  Ulswater,  who  first  established  over 
108 


The  Island  of  Lua  109 

me  a  kind  of  Monroe  Doctrine,  forbidding 
to  other  powers  the  annexation  of  any  terri 
torial  portion  of  me,  followed  it  up  by  a 
species  of  suzerainty  controlling  foreign  re 
lations;  which  having  developed  into  some 
thing  resembling  the  German  Empire, — that 
is,  nominally  an  alliance,  practically  a  solid 
entity  of  control, — therein  I  rest,  on  the 
whole,  patriotic  and  pleased. 

A  month  ago  my  family  consisted  of  Mrs. 
Ulswater,  Norah  the  maid,  Susannah  the 
orphan,  Georgiana  the  hen, — both  from  the 
island  of  Clementina, — and  Ram  Nad,  a 
Cingalese  pundit  and  fakeer,  whom  Mrs. 
Ulswater  had  collected  cavalierly — I  admit, 
cavalierly, — who,  after  the  learning  of  his 
race,  practised  medicine,  hypnotism,  and 
sleight  of  hand;  whose  medical  ideas  were 
ridiculous,  his  magic  good,  his  status  as  an 
orphan  an  acceptable  probability;  whose 
chief  property  was  his  wicker  basket,  shaped 
like  a  truncated  cone,  with  a  flat  cover  on 
top,  his  vade-mecum,  his  universal  container. 


1 10          The  Island  of  Lua 

All  things  he  put  into  it,  and  there  they  dis 
appeared.  Many  things  he  took  out  of  it. 
He  was  a  bully  magician,  and  looked  some 
thing  like  a  prophet  and  something  like  a 
lamb. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  was  originally  interested 
in  foreign  missions.  Out  of  this  interest 
she  developed  a  mission  of  her  own.  Her 
purpose  was  to  employ  the  Violctta  as  a 
migratory  orphan  asylum,  or  mobile  base  of 
operations,  from  which  to  scatter  regenera 
tive  ideas;  to  sail  about  picking  up  casual 
orphans  perhaps,  introducing  neatness,  good 
habits,  and  practical  housekeeping  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  rearranging  haply  its  popula 
tions  and  politics;  a  sort  of  slumming  on  the 
high  seas,  an  oceanic  College  Settlement.  A 
stupendous  idea!  The  Pacific  Ocean  was 
much  in  need  of  Mrs.  Ulswater.  It  is  a 
loose,  untidy  ocean,  a  "Bohemian"  ocean 
with  its  far  scattered  islands,  lunging  seas, 
and  idle  solitudes. 

"Brooms,"  Mrs.  Ulswater  said,  speaking 


The  Island  of  Lua  1 1 1 

of  the  islanders,  "brooms,  soap,  and  taking 
pains,  are  what  they  need." 

An  ominous  phrase,  "taking  pains"!  Is 
it  a  fact  that  not  enough  pains  are  thrust 
upon  us  in  the  normal  course  of  events,  that 
we  must  acquire  "pains"? 

I  stumped  Mrs.  Ulswater  with  that  ques 
tion.  Hadn't  mankind  enough  pains  with 
out  taking  pains  ?  She  said : 

"The  Kanakas  haven't,"  and  then  re 
flected.  "People,"  she  said,  "never  got 
civilised  by  having  a  good  time." 

I  fear  that  proposition  is  sound. 


CHAPTER  XV 
SaMcr 

THE  Violetta  was  steaming  sturdily 
south.  The  festival  of  Christmas 
was  approaching.  Susannah  was  greatly 
excited  over  the  preparations.  Mrs.  Uls- 
water  was  making  mince  pies.  Ram  Nad — 
whose  opinion  of  himself  is  that  he  is  an 
astral  and  unworldly  soul,  while  Mrs.  Uls- 
water's  is  that  he  differs  from  all  heathen 
described  in  the  missionary  quarterlies,  and 
my  own  is  that  he  is  as  full  of  gammon  as  an 
eggshell  is  full  of  egg — Ram  Nad  was  tak 
ing  no  interest  in  mince  pies.  For  myself, 
in  the  tropics,  I  would  as  soon  have  eaten  a 
pound  of  bent  whalebone,  or  a  swarm  of 
congealed  bees,  as  a  mince  pie,  whose  in 
ward  action  upon  me  would,  I  was  sure,  be 
similar  to  that  of  resilient  whalebone  or 
tha  wed-out  bees;  and  therefore,  although 

112 


Sadler  1 1 


interested  in  mince  pies,  I  yet  regarded  the 
subject  with  a  certain, — shall  I  say? — 
anxiety.  It  was  under  these  circum 
stances  that  we  sighted,  approached,  and 
at  length  took  anchorage  at  the  island 
of  Lua. 

It  was  not  an  unknown  Pacific  Island,  nor 
yet  well-known.  The  date  of  its  discovery, 
its  size,  inhabitants  and  products  will  not  be 
found  stated  in  a  school  geography,  but  a 
good  chart  will  show  its  location.  Whether 
or  not  there  were  any  white  men  there  I  did 
not  know,  but  thought  it  likely.  There  is  a 
considerable  and  curious  drifting  white 
population  in  the  South  Pacific.  The  Cau 
casian  is  ubiquitous.  There  is  a  restless 
germ  in  his  blood,  unknown  to  the  Oriental 
and  mysterious  to  himself. 

A  numerous  village  of  wattled  huts 
stretched  along  the  white  beach  of  the  bay 
where  we  came  to  anchor.  I  have  been  not 
a  little  here  and  there  in  the  South  Pacific 
in  my  time,  but  never  before  on  the  island  of 


ii4  Sadler 


Lua.  Its  blue  and  lilac  mountains  in  pano 
rama, — white  threads  of  falling  water  on 
their  steeps, — its  nearer  hills,  palmy  and 
green  and  like  moss  in  the  softening  dis 
tance,  the  smooth  lacquered  water  in  the  bay, 
the  beach,  the  little  brown  huts  with  domed 
roofs  of  leafy  thatch,  truly  all  seemed  at 
peace.  A  few  people  came  down  to  the 
beach  to  observe  us,  and  presently  a  boat  put 
out, — not  one  of  the  native  outriggers,  but  a 
dumpy  little  ship's  dinghy.  With  the  aid  of 
a  glass  I  made  out  that  the  occupants  were 
two  white  men. 

Of  the  two  men,  who  now  came  aboard 
the  Violetta,  the  foremost  was  a  tall,  bony, 
swing-shouldered  powerful  man,  with  a 
melancholy  countenance,  dangling  gray 
moustache,  whitish  hair,  lean  throat,  re 
markably  large  hands,  and  a  husky  voice, 
who  carried  a  banjo  swung  by  a  cord 
around  his  neck;  the  other  was  plainly  a 
Hibernian,  stoop-shouldered,  his  hair  and 
whiskers  forming  a  circular,  complete,  and 


Sadler  1 1 5 


resplendent  aureole  around  his  face,  at  the 
centre  of  which  aurora  a  short  black  tobacco 
pipe  was  firmly  inserted. 

"How  do?"  said  the  bony  stranger, 
mournfully,  and  then  casting  his  eyes 
down  on  the  Violetta's  deck,  he  stopped  and 
gazed. 

On  the  flowered  carpet  under  the  neat 
awning  sat  Mrs.  Ulswater  as  usual  with  her 
workbasket  beside  her,  her  knitting  in  her 
hand;  there  were  the  rocking  chairs  with 
their  doilies,  some  geranium  pots  along  the 
scuppers,  and  some  lashed  to  the  awning 
supports ;  there  sat  that  venerable  Cingalese, 
Ram  Nad,  with  his  magic-basket  beside 
him;  Susannah  held  Georgiana  Tupper  in 
her  lap. 

"I  don't  seem  to  get  my  vest  around  your 
combination,"  said  the  bony  one,  observing 
this  domestic  scene.  "Is  it  waxworks,  or 
pirates?"  He  looked  worried  about  it. 
"My  name's  Sadler,"  he  continued,  "and 
this  yere  conflagration  behind  me  is  named 


n6  Sadler 


Irish  or  Jimmie  Hagan,  just  as  you  like. 
We'd  be  pleased  to  know  you." 

This  sounded  ingratiating,  though  his 
countenance  was  melancholy.  Presently  he 
sat  in  one  of  the  doilied  rocking  chairs,  with 
his  feet  tucked  away  behind  him,  and  he 
seemed  easy-going  in  his  talk,  and  candid 
as  to  his  history. 

He  had  been  a  sailor  once,  as  it  seemed, 
on  a  smuggling  or  filibustering  ship  along 
South  American  coasts,  and  after  that  had 
lived  in  the  city  of  Portate,  South  America, 
and  from  there  he  had  gotten  himself  ban 
ished  on  account  of  his  interest  in  romantic 
politics,  and  gone  to  California,  and  made 
money  in  some  kind  of  Oriental  trade;  but 
lately  he  had  been  in  Burmah  professionally, 
that  is  to  say,  his  profession  there  had  been 
that  of  a  sort  of  high  priest,  a  species  of  ab 
bot  of  a  kind  of  monastery;  and  after  that 
in  Sumatra.  But  a  month  or  more  since 
he  had  dropped  on  Lua.  The  island  had 
interested  him  by  its  romantic  politics.  He 


Sadler  117 


had  resolved  to  "take  a  hand  in  that  seduc 
ing  game,  which  it  looked  real  sporty/'  he 
said,  "and  I  judged  the  showdown  was  com 
ing  soon,  but  it  hasn't  yet,  and  it's  been 
rolling  up  the  blankedest  jackpot  you  ever 
saw." 

"What!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 

"Beg  pardon,  ma'am.  I  shouldn't  have 
swore,  but  them's  the  facts." 

"What  are  the  facts?" 

Sadler  looked  worried. 

"May  I,"  I  said,  "venture  to  suggest  that 
your  terms  are  perhaps  a  trifle  technical,  or 
— shall  I  say  ? — a  trifle  remote.  Let  me  ex 
plain  to  Mrs.  Ulswater  that  by  a  'show 
down'  is  intended  merely  the  decision  of  a 
given  issue;  that  a  'jackpot,'  as  such,  may  be 
defined  as  an  accumulation  of  undecided 
issues." 

"Why,"  said  Sadler,  "you  see,  doctor,  it's 
this  way.  Your  ideas  about  technical  lan 
guage  and  mine  don't  jibe  with  each  other, 
and  I'll  bet  my  last  week's  shirt  to  yours  of 


1 1  8  Sadler 


the  week  before,  Mrs.  Ulswater's  idea  ain't 
agreeable  with  either  of  us :"  on  which  point 
my  own  opinion  was  similar  to  his,  and 
I  regretfully  let  pass  that  interesting 
wager. 

"Well!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater  again; 
"What  are  the  facts?" 

Sadler  then  described  the  politics  of  Lua, 
in  a  voice  slow,  husky,  and  bereaved. 

"Some  years  ago,"  he  said,  "a  friend  of 
mine,  who  was  a  white  man  named  Craney, 
was  king  of  Lua,  for  he  bought  out  the  dif 
ferent  candidates,  or  pooled  the  interests,  or 
something,  and  mounted  the  throne  himself. 
Anyhow,  he  was  killed  in  a  ruction.  It  oc 
curred  to  me  to  come  around  this  way,  which 
happened  about  a  month  back,  to  ask  Craney 
for  the  job  of  Prime  Minister,  but  I  found 
he  was  dead,  and  the  place  seemed  to  me 
then  on  the  edge  of  another  dynastic  war. 
There  was  a  young  chap  named  Kolosama, 
who  was  the  son  of  the  king  who  succeeded 
Craney,  and  there  was  an  old  chap  named 


Sadler  1 1 9 


Ogelomano,  who  claimed  the  throne  by  right 
of  superior  wisdom,  with  some  other  compli 
cated  rights,  and  relations,  by  which  it  ap 
peared  he  ought  to  have  been  king  before. 
Awful  names,  ain't  they?  Well,  this  yere 
royalty  appeared  to  be  partly  hereditary, 
partly  elective,  and  mostly  revolutionary, 
which  is  all  very  well,  but  hard  feeling  inside 
of  families  is  vicious.  That's  my  opinion. 
Kolo  had  the  largest  backing,  but  Ogel  had 
the  superior  wisdom,  as  appeared  from  this : 
namely,  he  immejitly  laid  himself  out  to  get 
the  support  of  the  newly  arrived  combina 
tion  of  military  genius,  statecraft,  and 
diplomacy — that's  me.  Arguing  with  a 
scrupulous  conscience,  then,  I  comes  to  this 
conclusion;  I  says:  The  first  requirement 
for  a  happy  kingdom  is  a  forehanded  king; 
the  next  is  a  superior  Prime  Minister;  which 
it's  clear  from  the  behaviour  of  this  party 
that  he  knows  what's  what,  and  it's  clear 
from  the  behaviour  of  the  other  party  that 
he  ain't  got  no  real  penetration  at  all ;  nor  he 


120  Sadler 


ain't  onto  the  points  of  royalty,  or  he'd  know 
that  a  kingdom  without  a  Prime  Minister  is 
as  unhappy  as  a  cat  with  no  dog  to  chase 
her,  which  anybody  but  a  fool  knows;  and 
consequently  this  yere  Kolosama  is  unfit  to 
rule  this  balmy  isle,  and  this  yere  Ogel  is  a 
promising  monarch.  That's  my  opinion/ 
I  stated  that  argument  to  Ogel,  and  he 
agreed  that  was  a  tart  argument  all  right, 
and  I  was  a  Prime  Minister  sent  by  the  gods. 
Then  Ogel  and  Irish  and  I,  we  went  over 
till  we  come  to  the  palace,  which  is  built  of 
bamboo  and  all  on  the  ground  floor,  but  else- 
wise  is  a  commojous  mansion,  and  chuck 
full  of  Craney's  furnishings;  and  we  dis 
charged  artillery  from  the  front  door,  to  let 
folks  know  we  was  on  the  throne.  Then 
Kolosama  collected  his  party,  and  went  off 
to  the  other  side  of  the  island,  and  declared 
war.  Then  we  called  him,  on  the  chance 
it  was  a  bluff.  So  it  was,  and  so  was  ours. 
Neither  of  us  showed  down.  That's  how  it 
is.  Me  and  Irish  with  Ogel's  warriors,  and 


Sadler  1 2 1 


Kolosama  with  his  warriors,  have  been 
prancing  forth  over  these  picturesque  moun 
tains  like  we  intended  to  be  real  vicious,  and 
dodging  back  till  the  island's  near  distracted. 
We've  got  the  wisdom  and  foresight,  and 
we  got  all  Craney's  firearms  by  the  coopdee- 
tat,  but  Kolo  appears  to  have  a  majority  of 
the  foolish  population  with  him  just  now, 
and  there  you  are.  There's  your  jackpot, 
which  me  and  Kolo  are  playing  for.  I 
haven't  got  the  hand  to  open  it,  or  to  do 
anything  but  jockey  for  position,  for  Kolo's 
got  most  of  the  warriors.  I  don't  know 
what's  the  matter  with  him,  unless  his  war 
riors  don't  like  gunpowder.  Maybe  his 
hand's  weaker  than  it  looks,  but  I'd  bet 
something  if  I  held  it,  this  jackpot  would  be 
opened." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  Ogelomano?"  I 
asked,  when  Sadler  paused. 

"Fat  and  sulky,"  he  said;  "but  I've  seen 
worse.  I've  seen  homelier  looking  men  too, 
somewhere,  but  I've  forgotten  where  that 


122  Sadler 


was.  Maybe  it  was  in  a  nightmare.  For 
that  matter  Kolo's  all  right  enough  too.  I 
guess  the  island  would  be  happy  with  either, 
were  t'other  dear  charmer  away." 

Sadler  stopped  and  rubbed  his  chin 
gloomily,  and  said :  "Nice  outfit  of  yours. 
Waxwork  pirates,  maybe  ?" 

I  explained  the  purposes  and  mission  of 
the  Vloletta. 

"Floating  orphan  asylum,"  said  Sadler, 
"sort  of  perambulating  benevolence,  and 
steam-propulsion  mission  house,  to  teach 
temperateness  to  the  tropics.  Why,  that's 
all  right.  A  chap  that  wants  to  pad  his  soul 
with  good  deeds,  and  go  to  sleep  on  his 
benevolence  like  a  downy  bed,  why,  he's  got 
a  good  proposition.  I've  done  it  myself, 
and  it  worked,  more  or  less.  But  I  always 
got  restless." 

He  began  thrumming  distressful  and  com 
plaining  chords  on  his  banjo,  looked  off  to 
sea  with  a  dreamy  expression,  until  presently 
he  raised  a  tune  that  never  should  have  ex- 


Sadler  123 


isted,  and  sang  to  it  in  a  voice  like  that  of  a 
walrus  with  a  cold : 

"  I  want  to  be  an  orphan, 
And  with  the  orphans  roam, 
A  millionaire  my  guardian, 
A  steam  yacht  for  my  home 

"Doctor,"  he  said,  huskily;  "it's  this  way. 
You've  come  to  the  right  shop  with  those 
goods.  Yere's  your  chance  for  benevolence. 
If  you'd  steam  around  to  the  other  side  of 
Lua,  and  find  Kolo,  which  I  could  spot  his 
location  for  you  pretty  near;  and  if  you'd 
ladle  him  out  some  of  that  there  benevolence, 
and  tell  him  you  were  his  long-lost  aunt  that 
was  thinking  of  giving  him  some  toy  fire 
arms,  maybe  he'd  come  aboard.  I  shouldn't 
wonder.  But  if  he  brought  any  warriors 
with  him,  you'd  better  make  him  send  them 
ashore  to  wash  their  faces,  which  they'll 
need  it  all  right.  Then  if  you  happened  to 
get  up  steam  and  sail  away  with  him,  and 
took  him  to  the  States,  and  give  him  a  col 
lege  education,  and  sent  me  the  bill,  why,  I'd 


1 24  Sadler 


send  a  draft  on  San  Francisco  for  any 
amount  in  reason.  Why,  see  yere,  doctor, 
that  scheme  is  neat  surely,  and  benevolent 
to  hatch  eggs,  ain't  it  ?  Yere  you  leave  the 
island  of  Lua  with  its  politics  smooth  as 
milk,  and  a  forehanded  king  whose  policy 
is  guided  by  an  unequalled  Prime  Minister, 
in  the  direction  of  single  matrimony  and  a 
vegetarian  diet.  Consider  that  strategy! 
Regard  it!  Look  at  it  all  around!  Re 
mark  the  moral  purpose!  Catch  onto  its 
simplicity  of  design !  Why,  it's  a  wonder !" 

I  looked  at  Mrs.  Uls water,  who  had  said 
nothing  during  the  above,  but  sat  there  sew 
ing,  and  sometimes  glancing  up  at  Sadler. 
Now  she  laid  down  her  sewing  and  said : 

"Are  you  sure  the  island  would  be  better 
off  if  one  of  the  kings  were  taken  away?" 

"Sure,  ma'am!  Why,  look  at  it!  You 
can  see  for  yourself." 

"Of  course  it  would  look  so.  But  then,  is 
Kolosama  a  nice  person?  We  don't  like  to 
take  orphans  without  knowing  about  them." 


Sadler  125 


"I'll  tell  you  on  the  square,  ma'am,"  said 
Sadler,  "Kolo  ain't  bright,  or  he'd  have 
called  me  before  now.  He's  slow.  He's 
plodding.  Moreover  he's  self-willed  and 
opinionated.  He  don't  take  to  prime  minis 
ters,  or  official  advice.  He  needs  discipline, 
and  he  needs  encouragement.  And  yet  I'd 
call  him  a  promising  kid,  and  a  hopeful 
orphan.  He'd  be  a  credit  to  you.  Yes'm. 
No  doubt  of  it." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  took  up  her  knitting  and 
said,  "I  should  like  to  see  the  older  king 
first." 

"If  you'll  come  up  to  the  palace  to-mor 
row,"  said  Sadler,  "the  old  man'd  be  pleased 
to  see  you.  You've  no  notion  how  he'd  like 
Kolo  to  have  a  foreign  education." 

He  gathered  up  his  large  frame,  mur 
mured,  "Piratical  waxworks!"  and  de 
parted,  together  with  Irish,  who  silently 
smoked  his  short  black  pipe. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
at  tbe  palace 

IT  seemed  to  me  that  a  Prime  Minister 
who  composed  poetry  impromptu  and 
played  the  banjo,  was  a  species  never  yet 
examined  and  classified  by  me.  But  as  to 
Kolosama's  entry  into  my  family  circle,  it 
seemed  to  me  the  selection  of  orphans  should 
be  made  only  on  strong  recommendations. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Ulswater,  Susan 
nah,  and  I  started.  A  well-trodden  path  led 
through  the  forest,  and  at  the  end  of  a  few 
miles  came  out  into  a  pleasant  valley,  where 
lay  a  scattered  village  of  huts  for  the  most 
part  small,  fragile,  and  consisting  generally 
of  a  woven  roof,  posts  to  support  it,  and  an 
occasional  mat  between  posts.  The  palace 
was  easily  distinguished,  standing  in  a  grove 
on  a  hill,  a  long  one-storied  bamboo  house, 
surrounded  by  piazzas.  Evidently  it  had 
126 


At  the  Palace  1 27 

been  built  by  a  white  man.  In  some  odd 
way  it  suggested  the  States. 

Sadler  met  us  in  the  village,  and  brought 
us  to  his  own  dwelling,  which  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  palace  hill.  I  judged  it  had  been 
furnished  from  the  palace  with  properties  of 
King  Craney.  It  included  five  bamboo  huts 
adjoining  each  other. 

A  Kanaka  servant,  who  stood  by  the  door 
of  one  of  them,  shrieked  and  vanished. 
That  hut  seemed  to  be  the  kitchen.  A  cat 
of  faded  and  depressed  appearance  replaced 
the  Kanaka  in  the  doorway. 

"Oh,  please!"  cried  Susannah,  "May  I 
have  that  cat?" 

"Dolores  is  her  name,"  said  Sadler,  look 
ing  dreamily  at  the  cat,  "which  she  likes  to 
sleep  on  pies.  She's  got  a  heart  sorrow, 
sort  of  indigestion  of  the  spirit,  same  as  me. 
Some  of  it  comes  from  dissipation,  some  of 
it  on  account  of  sleeping  in  the  oven  on  pies, 
which  has  varieties  of  climate  pretty  stiff,  so 
she's  got  a  seared  and  wasted  look,  as  you 


128  At  the  Palace 

might  say.  Besides,"  he  added  after  a  mo 
ment's  thought,  "she  ain't  got  no  dog  to 
chase  her." 

"Goodness!"  said  Mrs,  Ulswater,  looking 
into  the  kitchen.  "Isn't  it  awful !" 

She  was  down  on  Sadler's  housekeeping 
to  an  extent  you'd  hardly  believe.  Still,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  the  weeds  growing 
over  the  floor  made  his  kitchen  look  like  a 
pasture  lot,  and  that  the  kitchen  windows 
were  somewhat  untidy  on  account  of  the 
Kanaka  cook  throwing  slops  at  them  from  a 
distance.  There  was  coffee  in  a  china  vase, 
and  tobacco  in  the  teapot.  There  was  a  hen 
laying  an  egg  in  the  soup  tureen,  which 
fitted  her  very  neatly  and  snugly. 

"Please!"  cried  Susannah  again,  "May  I 
have  this  cat?" 

"Sure!"  said  Sadler.  "It  ain't  good  for 
her  here.  She  gets  bad  habits  living  along 
of  me.  Any  cat  would  that  lived  along  of 
me." 

We  went  up  to  the  palace.     It  was  fur- 


At  the  Palace  129 

nished  profusely  with  the  kind  of  things  that 
seem  stuffy  in  the  tropics,  for  the  lamented 
royalty  called  Craney  seemed  to  have  had  a 
taste  for  plush-covered  chairs,  red-flowered 
carpets,  portieres  with  fringes  and  tassels, 
glass-bangled  lamps,  and  gilded  clocks.  For 
the  clocks  King  Ogel  seemed  to  share  King 
Craney's  weakness.  I  counted  fourteen 
clocks  in  the  audience  room,  all  going  but 
three.  The  king  sat  on  a  plush  sofa  among 
his  clocks,  fanning  himself.  The  largest 
and  gildedest  clock  stood  on  the  floor  in 
front  of  him. 

He  was  an  elderly  man,  stout  and  un 
wieldy,  of  morose  expression,  his  com 
plexion  inferior,  and  his  grizzled  hair  stuck 
full  of  chicken  bones.  He  wore  a  pink  shirt 
without  a  collar,  a  shell  necklace,  and  a  kind 
of  skirt  that  seemed  to  have  been  formerly  a 
lace  window  curtain.  Sadler  introduced  us. 
The  king  grunted,  "How  do,"  and  we  sat 
down  on  the  plush  chairs  and  discussed 
Sadler's  scheme.  Sadler  expatiated  on  the 


130  At  the  Palace 

highly  moral  qualities  in  it,  the  peace  that 
would  fall  on  the  distracted  island,  when 
Kolo  was  thus  removed  strategically  and  for 
his  own  best  welfare.  The  king  looked 
pleased.  His  pleasure  seemed  to  arouse  his 
hospitality,  and  his  hospitality  was  startling. 
He  rose,  shouted,  and  stamped.  From  far 
piazzas  came  scuttling,  came  running,  brown 
men  and  women  bearing  baskets  and  plat 
ters;  in  the  baskets  was  fruit,  in  the  platters 
fish  cooked  most  messily,  and  other  articles 
of  diet  indescribable,  which  I  had  no  curios 
ity  to  taste.  But  I  thought  Mrs.  Ulswater 
seemed  favourably  impressed  with  the  king. 

Now  fell  the  hour  of  ten,  and  the  clocks 
broke  out  striking  noisily. 

Over  the  king's  face  passed  an  expression 
of  unutterable  delight.  His  heavy  cheeks 
wrinkled  into  smiles.  He  thumped  his 
chest  and  chuckled.  He  turned  from  clock 
to  clock,  keeping  his  eye  in  particular  on  the 
great  gilt  clock  at  his  feet,  from  whose  or 
nate  front  no  sound  as  yet  was  come. 


At  the  Palace  1 3 1 

The  clocks  all  ceased.  But  the  great  gilt 
clock  had  not  struck. 

Suddenly  as  a  crash  of  thunder  the  king 
passed  from  chuckling  happiness  to  anger, 
violent  and  uncontrolled.  He  clambered  to 
his  feet.  He  stamped.  He  swore  in  the 
language  of  beach  combers  and  decayed 
mariners,  inexcusable,  abominable.  He 
shook  his  fists  at  Sadler. 

"My  clock  don'  go !"  he  shrieked.  "Arrr ! 
She  don'  go !"  and  snatching  up  a  fruit  bas 
ket,  he  fell,  in  utter  and  abandoned  rage, 
beating,  kicking,  yelling,  swearing,  scatter 
ing  fruit,  upon  the  frightened  and  frizzle- 
haired  henchmen  and  henchwomen,  who  fled 
with  tumult  and  wailing,  from  room  to 
room,  from  piazza  to  far  piazza,  and  beyond 
into  the  forest,  where  the  noise  of  pursuit 
died  distantly  away. 

I  was  amazed.    Mrs.  Ulswater  sprang  up. 

"Is  that  a  king !"  she  said  indignantly,  and 
started  for  the  piazza  followed  by  myself,  by 
Susannah  with  the  cat,  and  by  Sadler  in  dep- 


132  At  the  Palace 

recation.  "He  ought  to  be  spanked! 
That's  what  he  ought,"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 

"You're  right,  ma'am,"  said  Sadler. 
"Ain't  a  doubt  it  would  be  a  good  thing,  and 
I  was  thinking,  when  you  spoke,  as  how, 
when  Kolo  was  gone  and  things  was  settled, 
I'd  just  get  that  introduced  quiet  like  into 
the  regular  court  ceremonial,  putting  it  un 
der  the  heading  of  'Official  Care  of  the 
King's  Person,'  which  I  was  thinking, 
ma'am,  as  how  it  was  my  recollection  a  strap 
got  there  better  n  a  shingle.  Yes'm." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  stopped  on  the  edge  of  the 
porch,  mollified. 

"Would  you  really  do  that?" 

"Yes'm." 

"Well,"  she  said,  "if  you'll  catch  that  king 
and  bring  him  down  to  tea  this  evening, 
we'll  think  it  over  by  that  time.  Goodness ! 
How  do  you  know  Kolo  is  any  better?" 

And  we  returned  to  the  Violetta. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
.  TUlswater  Gafces  Bctlon 

SADLER  came  down  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  with  him  little  Irish  and 
King  Ogel.  If  Mrs.  Ulswater  was  expect 
ing  a  contrite  king,  she  was  disappointed. 
He  strutted  across  the  deck  in  front  of  a 
bodyguard  of  three  huge  warriors,  whose 
garb  and  outfit  were  more  ferocious  than 
ornamental,  more  ornamental  than  decorous, 
and  more  ornamental  in  intention  than  in 
result.  He  was  unashamed.  His  misbe 
haviour  had  left  no  traces  on  his  compla 
cence.  He  was  impertinently  vain  of  that 
terrific  bodyguard.  I  noticed  Mrs.  Uls- 
water's  expression  become  suddenly  set  and 
determined.  I  knew  the  king's  complacence 
irritated  her,  his  un repented  misbehaviour 
roused  her  instinct  for  discipline.  Some 
thing  was  going  to  happen.  I  looked  at  the 
warriors.  I  wished  it  might  not  be  some- 
133 


134    Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action 

thing  that  would  cause  the  introduction  into 
my  anxious  digestive  organism  of  those 
shovel-headed  spears,  unpleasant  objects, 
nay,  surely  indigestible.  I  hoped  for  the 
best.  I  was  calm  but  expectant. 

"Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "when 
kings  are  invited  to  tea,  don't  people  have 
entertainments  for  them?" 

"Invariably!  Music  and  dancing!"  I 
exclaimed,  delighted,  relieved  at  the  turn 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  intentions  seemed  to  be  tak 
ing.  "Daughters  of  Herodias — hem — I 
mean  to  say  you  are  quite  right.  No  bar 
baric  potentate  can  swallow  his  victuals 
without  some  agreeable  distraction." 

"Of  course  we  haven't  any  of  those 
things,"  she  said,  and  looked  thoughtfully  at 
Ram  Nad,  who  was  squatted  near  on  the 
flowered  carpet,  "but  if  Ram  Nad  should 
hypnotise  the  king's  men,  don't  you  think 
it  would  amuse  him?" 

She  pointed  to  the  bodyguards.  I 
thought  it  would.  Ram  Nad  consented. 


Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action    135 

Venerable  and  imappalled,  he  drew  near,  sat 
down  in  front  of  the  guards,  and  began  his 
monotonous  chant  and  circuitous  gesturing 
before  their  stolid  faces,  whose  stationary  ex 
pressions  and  complexions  variegated  with 
tattoo  were  unmoved  by  Ram  Nad's  odd  be 
haviour.  Slowly  those  copper-skinned  and 
impassive  spearmen  in  ornamental  outfit 
keeled  over  and  lay  stretched  and  rigid, 
mute  symbols  of  barbarism,  promiscuously 
prostrate,  frozen  ferocities,  motionless  im 
ages  of  war.  A  whirl  of  Ram  Nad's  hand, 
and  they  rolled,  tumbled,  turning  promiscu 
ity  into  chaos,  across  the  deck,  and  brought 
up  in  the  scuppers  among  the  geranium  pots. 
There  lay  shields  and  spears,  sprawling  legs 
and  tattooed  faces,  grotesque  and  horrific, 
among  the  brown  earthenware  pots,  the 
round  velvety  leaves  and  small  red  petals  of 
that  plant  so  familiar  in  the  cleanly  windows 
of  our  native  land. 

The  king  was  delighted.      He  thumped 
his  chest,  and  laughed. 


136    Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action 

Jimmie  Hagan  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  profoundly  astonished. 

Sadler  murmured  "Waxworks!" 

"More!"  the  king  commanded,  doubled 
over  with  laughter.  "More!" 

He  wanted  the  bodyguard  tumbled  down 
the  companionway,  but  Mrs.  Ulswater 
wouldn't  allow  it.  The  king  turned  sulky. 
Language  rumbled  in  his  throat  preparing 
to  be  shrieked. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater;  "As 
if  I'd  let  those  things  into  my  parlour! 
Have  them  tumbled  down  the  gangway  if 
you  want  to." 

The  king  brightened  up.  Infatuated  man, 
he  did  not  see — he  had  no  inkling  of — the 
danger  that  lurked  in  Mrs.  Ulswater's  set 
mouth  and  determined  expression.  I  could 
have  warned  him,  but  refrained.  Clearly 
she  was  right  about  the  incongruity  of  fully 
armed  and  half-naked  warriors  precipitated 
down  stairs  into  parlours.  One  feels  the 
impropriety  of  it. 


Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action     137 

While  Ram  Nad,  at  the  king's  boisterous 
order,  was  extricating  the  warriors  from  the 
geranium  pots,  and  while  Mrs.  Ulswater 
went  forward  and  was  talking  with  Captain 
Jansen,  I  was  thinking  it  impossible  that  she 
meant  to  allow  the  bodyguard  to  be  sent 
helplessly  overboard,  inhumanely,  to  the 
great  peril  of  drowning.  I  was  about  to 
intervene,  when  I  saw  Mrs.  Ulswater  return, 
followed,  to  my  surprise,  by  Captain  Jansen 
and  the  crew. 

"There!"  she  said,  pointing;  "Be 
quick !" 

Judge  of  my  astonishment,  when  Captain 
Jansen  and  our  muscular  crew  fell  upon 
Sadler,  Hagan,  and  King  Ogel,  and  jerking 
each  backward,  proceeded  to  tie  them  hands 
and  feet. 

"Murther!"  said  Hagan.  "Murther,"  he 
repeated  more  mildly,  and  then,  "Hand  up 
that  poipe." 

Susannah  cried,  "Goody!"  and  rushed 
about.  She  was  distracted  by  all  that  wealth 


138    Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action 

of  curious  phenomena,  and  the  scattered  ar 
rangement  of  objects  of  interest. 

"Pirates!"  shouted  Sadler.  After  one 
huge  lunge  he  subsided,  and  laughed.  He 
thundered  with  husky  merriment  and  un 
seasonable  mirth. 

The  humiliated  and  outraged  monarch 
began  eloquently,  but  Captain  Jansen 
clapped  his  hand  over  and  corked  up  the 
royal  anathema.  They  carried  King  Ogel 
forward.  My  impression  is  that  Captain 
Jansen  used  a  strap,  varied,  perhaps,  at  in 
tervals,  by  a  board,  to  impress  upon  him 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  opinion.  We  heard  of 
him,  for  the  time  being,  no  more. 

'Tie  up  those  Kanakas!"  said  Mrs.  Uls 
water.  "Now,  Ram  Nad,  wake  them 
up.  Now,  they  must  be  taken  ashore. 
Captain  Jansen,  you  must  get  up  steam. 
Untie  Mr.  Sadler  and  Mr.  Hagan. 
There !" 

She  sat  clown,  rocked  nervously,  and  took 
up  her  knitting  again.  Sadler's  laughter 


Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action    139 

had  ceased.  We  both  looked  at  her.  We 
wondered  and  waited. 

"Well !"  she  said  at  last  defiantly,— as  the 
sound  of  oarlocks  told  of  the  boats  drawing 
away  shoreward,  loaded  with  disentranced 
but  well-roped,  disarmed,  bewildered  war 
riors, — "I  don't  know  what  you  think,  but  I 
think  Ogel  would  have  been  a  dreadful  king, 
and  from  what  Mr.  Sadler  said,  I  think  Kolo 
will  do  better.  Besides,  it's  easier  to  carry 
off  the  one  that's  handy,  instead  of  running 
after  the  other,  isn't  it?  Of  course  it  is." 
She  added  a  moment  later,  "Of  course,  Mr. 
Sadler,  you  needn't  come  away  unless  you 
like,  but  you  said  you  didn't  get  on  with  the 
other  king,  and  I  thought  it  would  please 
Dr.  Ulswater.  I  know  he  enjoys  your 
company." 

Sadler  wiped  his  eyes  and  sighed. 

"I  ain't  been  dished  up  so  green  and 
tasty,  like  a  salad,"  he  said,  "since  me  and 
Moses  and  Pharaoh  used  to  play  draw 
poker,  and  Moses  kept  special  providences 


140    Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action 

up  his  sleeve,  nor  I  ain't  had  such  a  good 
time  since  the  last  time  I  was  licked  for 
stealing  horehound  candy;  which  my  recol 
lection,  ma'am,  is  in  favour  of  straps 
rather'n  shingles.  It's  all  right.  Lua's  too 
small  for  me.  You  can't  stretch  nights 
without  kicking  other  families  out  of  bed, 
which  makes  reverberating  scandals.  If 
you  sit  down,  you  squash  the  judiciary;  if 
you  get  up,  you  shake  the  throne.  This 
civil  war's  no  good.  Why, 

What's  a  war  without  no  slaughter  t 

I'd  rather  be  at 

A  Coopdetat 
By  Mrs.  James  Ulswater." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  went  below.  Her  nerves 
were  perhaps  a  trifle  upset.  Not  so  Susan 
nah.  But  Susannah  was  young.  She 
sniffed  the  battle  of  life.  She  thrilled  to  the 
keynote  of  action.  She  fell  upon  Jimmie 
Hagan  with  eager  inquiry  as  to  his  precise 
feelings  throughout  the  late  excitement. 
Sadler  and  myself  stood  watching  the  land 
ing  of  the  spearmen. 


Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action    141 

"You  don't  mind  going  with  us?"  I  asked 
him. 

"Me?  No!  I'll  have  to  get  even  with 
you  sometime  or  be  restless.  I  ain't  up  to 
abducting  Mrs.  Ulswater  nor  Susannah,  but 
I'll  lay  for  you,  doctor.  You'd  better  put 
Jimmie  on  the  crew.  He's  a  good  seaman. 
I'll  be  a  guest,  or  a  passenger,  or  an  orphan, 
anything  you  like.  Why,  look  yere,  doctor. 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  been  and  took  me  out  of 
temptation  to  stamp  on  my  fellowman,  and 
I'm  grateful.  She's  given  me  a  chance  at 
innocence.  Why,  my  fellowman's  always 
lying  around  in  my  way,  and  I  keep  stepping 
on  him,  and  kicking  holes  in  his  garments 
when  he  has  any,  and  bumps  on  him  where 
he  hasn't,  and  then  I  goes  off  to  eat  sack 
cloth  and  ashes,  and  wear  bread  and  water. 
That's  mostly  the  monotonous  way  of  it. 
But  the  point  that  gets  me  is  this :  I  recom 
mend  an  orphan,  and  she  thinks  that  '11  do 
for  a  king ;  I  recommend  a  king,  and  she  has 
him  spanked  for  an  orphan.  Now,  if  a 


142    Mrs.  Ulswater  Takes  Action 

candidate  for  a  throne  ought  to  qualify  that 
way,  maybe  he  ought;  but  I  never  heard  of 
it  before,  which  is  why  you  see  me  dished 
for  a  salad." 

So  departed  the  Violetta  from  the  island 
of  Lua.  May  its  politics  have  peace ! 

The  knock-out  drops  which  Ram  Nad 
kept  in  the  ends  of  his  fingers,  on  the  whole, 
had  worked  better  than  mine,  and  Mrs.  Uls- 
water's  logic  had  been,  as  ever,  penetrative, 
precise,  practical. 

The  preparations  for  celebrating  Christ 
mas  were  resumed.  My  anxieties  returned. 
I  confided  them  to  Sadler.  I  said : 

"It  is  my  fixed  opinion,  that  for  revelry 
and  sorrow,  for  a  taste  of  Eden's  rapturous 
but  snaky  joys,  a  mince  pie  in  the  tropics 
lays  over  most  things." 

"Why,  look  yere,  doctor,"  he  said.  "That 
there  king's  got  a  tempestuous  liver  that 
can't  be  downed,  and  he  likes  pies.  The 
king  '11  eat  it,  sure,  he'll  eat  it." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Conclusion  of  Dr.  Illlswater's 
Manuscript 


A  LYRICAL  poem  composed  by  Sadler, 
and  by  him  sung  inharmoniously  to  a 
banjo  :  — 

"  I'm,  so  to  speak,  shanghaied  to  sea; 
And  who  you  think  my  shipmates  be  ? 
One  family  of  millionaires, 
Rambling  the  deep  in  search  of  heirs; 
One  hypnotiser  Oriental; 
One  orphan  maiden  ornamental; 
One  widowed  cat;  one  spinster  hen; 
A  crew  of  blue-eyed  Swedish  men; 
One  head  of  hair  too  hot  for  wearing; 
One  captive  monarch  spanked  for  swearing  ;'  — 

is  not  what  you  would  call  amethystine  or 
ethereal  ;  but  poetry,  of  a  kind,  we  have  come 
to  expect  of  him.  But  when  Susannah 
brought  me  a  ballad,  composed  by  herself, 
on  the  foregoing  events,  it  produced  in  my 
mind  —  and  I  speak  moderately  —  a  state  of 
143 


144  Conclusion  of  Third  Manuscript 

exhausting  confusion.     I  copy  this  ballad. 
It  is  entitled  'The  Kings  of  Lua." 


There  were  two  kings  in  Lua, 
Which  only  could  use  one. 
Now  Sadler  came  from  Sumatra 
And  needed  some  more  fun. 


He  was  a  white  man,  although 
He  was  not  exactly  white, 
But  tanned   and  played  on  the  banjo. 
Which  angels  would  delight 

3- 

He  said,  '  Prime  Ministers  are  good  things, 
And  I'm  one  ot  those  things,  Hooroar  ! 
1 11  bet  my  last  week  s  shirt,  O  Kings: 
To  yours  of  the  week  before  ' 


The  old  King  wore  a  pink  one  neat, 

But  not  much  else  did  wear. 

His  face  looked  something  like  mince  meat 

Some  bones  were  in  his  hair 

5- 

Another  man  was  Irish, 
And  I  will  make  a  joke, 
His  hair  it  was  so  fierish, 
That  always  he  did  smoke. 


Conclusion  of  Third  Manuscript  145 


6. 


The  other  King  we  never  saw; 
He  didn't  come  to  tea. 
Oh,  wretched  island  of  Lua 
I  weep  and  wail  for  thee. 

7- 

1  So  then  they  had  a  war, 
Although  they  never  fought. 
1  There's  something  ails  this  civil  war/ 
Said  Sadler,  '  I  wonder  what.' 

8. 

•Ha!     Ha'    The  Vtoletta 
Came  sailing  in  one  day. 
Ogel  and  Sadler  and  Irish 
We  yanked  and  took  away. 

9 

1  •  About  Lua  now  it  is  now  known, 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  think. 
I  think  Kolo  ran  up  the  throne 
As  quick  as  he  could  wink." 

Yours — ULSWATER. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Dr.  THlswater'8  IRarratfve  Continues  : 
of  (Beorgtana  anO  2>olore0 


SAMOA.     March. 

IN  respect  to  incisive  logic,  decision,  and 
force,  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
Susannah  resembles  Mrs.  Ulswater.  The 
characters  of  both,  in  contact  with  my  tem 
perament,  produce  a  harmony,  thrilling  but 
agreeable.  But  then  my  temperament  is  a 
kettle  drum.  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
on  a  temperament  more  lute-like,  the  impact 
of  Susannah  might  produce  —  shall  I  say?  — 
surprise.  On  the  temperament  of  Sadler,  — 
melancholy  and  yet  buoyant,  intricate  and 
yet  simple,  —  the  impact  of  Susannah  seems 
to  produce  sometimes  extraordinary  jubila 
tion,  sometimes  a  condition  quite  the  reverse. 
He  calls  her  "a  melojous  circus,"  a  phrase 
implying  jubilation. 

He  is  a  man  of  moods,  a  contrast  to  the 
146 


Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores  1 47 

consistent  placidity  of  Ram  Nad,  the  Oc 
cident  to  the  Orient.  Are  they  then  super- 
significant  types  of  that  new  world  and  that 
old?  One  of  them  turns  to  life's  mystery  a 
bold  but  troubled  face,  and  covers  with  a 
jocular  and  careless  manner  a  soul  unrecon 
ciled.  The  toil  and  restless  wandering  of 
individuals,  the  surging  migration  of  races, 
the  incessant  change  called  progress,  are  all 
but  the  symptoms  of  his  feverish  discomfort, 
his  cosmic  ill  adjustment?  And  the  other, 
the  Ram  Nads,  the  old-world  type,  meek, 
timid,  tricky,  placid,  has  it  found  at  least,  out 
of  its  age-long  thoughts,  how  to  make  its 
truckling  peace  with  the  mystery  ?  C'est  un 
grand  peut-etre.  Meanwhile  the  education 
of  Susannah  is  the  principal  enterprise  of 
Mrs.  Ulswater,  Sadler,  and  me,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  Ram  Nad. 

It  was  my  habit  to  read  aloud  from  the 
poets,  the  divine  Shelley,  the  noble  Tenny 
son,  the  golden  Keats.  Susannah's  opinion 
of  these  poets  was,  on  the  whole,  scornful. 


148  Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores 

They  appeared  to  her  tortuous  and  deceitful. 
Their  language  was,  she  thought,  "mussy." 
She  did  not  believe  they  stated  the 
facts. 

Hence,  if  any  one  had  asked  me  sometime 
ago  whether  I  thought  it  possible  or  likely 
that  Susannah  would  bud,  bloom,  burst  loose 
and  explode  into  song,  I  should  have  said: 
"No !  Impossible !  Susannah  has  all  the 
materials  of  strident  criticism,  but  none  of 
poesy." 

Nevertheless  here  lies  her  ' 'Ballad  of  the 
Kings  of  Lua."  Here  lies  moreover  her 
tragic  and  profound  "Ballad  of  Georgiana 
and  Dolores."  What  can  be  said  of  them? 
First,  this;  that  I  take  the  immediate  cause 
of  Susannah's  explosion  to  have  been  Sadler. 
He  has  the  lyric  habit.  He  composes  as  a 
rooster  crows,  whenever  it  occurs  to  him. 
He  is  apt  to  state  his  mind  in  that  form. 
The  lyric  habit  is  infectious;  youth  is  imita 
tive;  hence  arise  schools  of  poetry;  hence 
Susannah's  explosion.  But  Susannah's  gift 


Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores  1 49 

is  for  the  narrative,  the  reflective.  She  has 
not  the  lyric  cry.  Hers  rather  are  the  force 
ful  expression  and  the  just  remark. 

We  left  King  Ogel  at  Sydney.  He  was 
pensioned  by  Sadler.  He  will  probably  pass 
his  remaining  years  in  intemperate  leisure. 
Mrs.  Ulswater  did  not  think  there  was  any 
prospect  of  working  his  reformation.  He 
was  not  a  desirable  orphan.  My  opinion 
was  that  Susannah  was  occupation  enough 
for  an  orphanage. 

Of  Georgiana  Tupper,  that  reserved,  that 
exclusive  hen  from  the  island  of  Clementina, 
and  of  Dolores,  that  stricken  cat  from  Lua, 
I  am  about  to  speak. 

It  was  the  I3th  of  February.  We  were 
steaming  eastward  somewhat  to  the  south 
of  the  Loyalty  Islands.  The  weather  had 
been  oppressive,  the  night  turned  threaten 
ing,  and  by  morning  it  was  blowing  a  gale. 
I  went  on  deck  to  watch  the  watery  phenom 
ena.  The  sea  was  tumultuous  and  black, 
the  clouds  overhead  hung  low  and  rainy,  and 


1 50  Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores 

the  intense  wind  trailed  streamers  of  cloud 
across  the  sea. 

Suddenly,  as  I  stood  there,  a  tall  black 
column  of  water  rose  directly  ahead  of  the 
Violetta. 

She  swerved  aside  in  answer  to  her  helm, 
narrowly  escaped  disaster;  and  that  contort 
ed  and  insurgent  object,  that  careening  mael 
strom,  and  insensate  Charybdis,  that  water 
spout,  went  whirling  by  on  the  port  side. 

But  now,  behold!  the  sea  all  about  was 
columned  with  water  spouts,  mushroom- 
shaped,  their  summits  lost  in  eddying  gloom 
— infuriate  smoke-stacks,  roaring  volcanoes 
waltzing  on  end — perpendicular  and  intoxi 
cated  whales,  bowelless  of  compassion,  active 
and  voracious — gyrating  black  funnels  of 
wind  and  water,  full  of  exuberant  malice, 
full  of  demons  of  the  nethermost  deep  striv 
ing  to  climb  the  pendant  and  embattled 
heavens.  Between  the  shattered  sea  and 
low  curtaining  clouds,  rumbled  about  us  that 
tremendous  warfare.  Now  and  again  a 


Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores  151 

spout  would  fall,  broken  like  a  pipe  stem 
near  its  base,  and  another  heave  up,  grip 
the  vapourish  canopy  above  it,  and  come 
racing  over  that  chaotic  ocean;  through  the 
midst  of  which  forest  of  fluid  insanity  and 
monstrous  fungi  of  the  sea — even  as 
through  some  vast  cavern  columned  with 
maniac  stalagmites  and  abandoned  pillars  of 
wet  combustion — we  fled. 

How  long  this  condition  of  affairs  lasted, 
I  could  not  say.  How  we  escaped,  Heaven 
and  Captain  Jansen  may  know.  The  seas 
now  arid  again  swept  the  deck. 

When  we  found  ourselves  at  last  with  no 
water  spouts  anywhere  near,  and  the  upper 
and  lower  world  reasonably  disconnected, 
Sadler  and  I  went  below,  where  we  found 
Mrs.  Ulswater  nervous,  Susannah  excited, 
Ram  Nad  calm  as  a  browsing  cow.  We  dis 
cussed  the  experience.  By  night  the  weather 
was  fairly  calm.  Not  till  then  did  we  find 
that  Dolores  and  Georgiana  Tupper  were 
missing. 


i  5  2  Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores 

In  the  forecastle,  it  had  been  supposed 
that  they  were  aft;  in  the  cabin,  that  they 
were  forward.  They  were  nowhere.  The 
minutest  search  was  in  vain.  From  one  end 
of  the  yacht  to  the  other  we  went — from 
deck  to  keel.  None  could  remember  hav 
ing  noticed  them,  except  Ram  Nad,  who 
stated  that  he  had  seen  them  on  deck  before 
the  tumult  arose.  No  doubt  remained  then. 
They  were  gone.  What  could  be  said? 
What  interpretation  could  be  put  upon  it? 
What  other  than  this  ?  that  in  endeavouring 
to  pass,  during  the  storm,  from  the  fore 
castle  to  the  cabin,  or  vice  versa,  they  had 
been  blown  or  swept  overboard. 

But  why  both?  How,  in  particular, 
Dolores?  Georgiana  was  but  a  hen;  a  hen 
can  be  swept  or  blown;  her  anchorage  is 
weak,  her  sail  area  apt  to  enlarge  with  the 
wind;  whereas  Dolores  was  a  cat,  carrying 
four  to  five  anchors  to  each  foot,  and  a  sail 
area  small  under  all  circumstances.  What 
force  then  could  have  torn  loose  her  des- 


Mystery  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores  1 5  3 

perate  grapple?  unless  it  were — a  pathetic 
possibility  here — that,  seeing  Georgiana,  the 
companion  and  support  of  her  bereaved  ex 
istence,  thus  blown  away,  she  had  rushed 
devotedly  to  her  rescue;  or — a  still  more 
affecting  thought — that,  simply  resolved  not 
to  outlive  Georgiana  but  to  perish  with  her, 
she  had  cast  herself  after  Georgiana  upon 
the  weltering  deep. 

When  this  last  idea  occurred  to  me,  I 
sought  Susannah  and  turned  it  over  to  her. 
The  first  effect  was  unfortunate.  Tearful, 
at  the  time,  she  burst  out  weeping.  Mrs. 
Ulswater  said  I  ought  to  be  ashamed. 
Sadler,  with  mournful  sarcasm,  did  not  see 
why  a  man,  because  he  was  full  of  ideas,  had 
to  slop  over  like  a  tub  of  soapsuds — surely 
a  mixed  metaphor,  a  confused  figure  of 
speech. 

Another  idea  occurred  to  me.  It  was 
that  Susannah  had  the  entire  sympathies 
of  the  Violetta  in  tow. 


CHAPTER  XX 
Gbe  3BallaD  ot  ©eoratana  anO  5>olorca 

THE    BALLAD 

I. 

THERE  was  a  cat  and  named  Dolores, 
And  she  had  many  worries. 
They  made  her  ill.  they  made  her  thin 
Her  stomach  was  all  tumbled  in. 

2. 

"Oh,  grief!     Oh,  dear'     Who  does  not  wail! 
Dolores  had  a  beautiful  tail 
It  was  black  and  partly  yellow, 
She  was  so  fair  and  good  a  fellow, 

3 

"  I  don't  mean  she  was  ever  fat, 
I  mean  she  was  a  woman  cat 
Now,  there  was  a  hen  too.     Oh  Shame! 
Now  Georgiana  was  her  name 

4 

"  Now,  to  be  proud  she  had  a  right. 
Her  eyes  they  were  very  bright, 
And  all  her  toes  she  had  but  one, 
Although  some  of  her  tail  feathers  were  gone. 

154 


Ballad  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores    155 

5. 

"Hark1    The  sea  is  full  of  awful  posts 
Which  make  a  person  think  of  ghosts 
Hark!    The  hurricane  so  fierce  does  blow. 
She  is  gone  off  the  ship      Woe1 

6 

"  Dolores  did  not  wait  to  purr. 
'  Farewell1 '  she  cried.     '  I  go  to  her.' 
The  foam  it  slithered  through  her  claws. 
She  was  drowned  in  Friendship's  Cause. 

7- 

"  My  precious  darling'    Oh,  my  pet! 
You  both  so  hated  to  get  wet. 
Now  you're  as  wet  inside  as  a  water  pail, 
It  makes  me  sick      I  die,  I  faint,  I  fail. 

8. 

'  Now,  sharks  and  whales,  you  are  so  big, 
If  you  should  eat  them ,  you're  a  pig, 
Now,  little  fish,  make  friends  with  them  please, 
With  Georgiana  and  Dolores." 

FOOTNOTES   BY   JAMES   ULSWATER. 

First  Stanza :  As  the  Ancient  Mariner  be 
gan  his  marvellous  tale,  "There  was  a  ship," 
so  Susannah  begins,  'There  was  a  cat" — 
boldly,  ruggedly,  a  leap  in  medias  res.  The 
first  stanza  is  a  condensed  and  yet  accurate 


156    Ballad  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores 

analysis  of  Dolores,  ending  with  a  striking 
bit  of  realism. 

Second  Stanza:  A  wild  burst  of  grief 
subsiding  sadly  into  tender  reminiscence. 
Note  how  the  proportions  of  black  and  yel 
low  on  the  tail  of  Dolores  are  delicately  dis 
criminated,  the  "black"  being,  in  point  of 
fact,  predominant. 

Third  Stanza:  We  are  introduced  to 
Georgiana.  Here  arises  a  difficulty.  What 
was  there  in  the  condition  of  being  "a  hen" 
to  warrant  the  exclamation,  "Oh,  Shame!" 
Surely  none !  I  interpret  the  passage  thus : 
the  exclamation  "Oh,  Shame!"  is  simply  the 
poetess'  passion  bursting  through,  as  it 
were,  the  reserve  of  the  narrative,  and  in  this 
way  it  prophetically  forecasts  the  fatal  issue. 
It  is  not,  I  think,  a  reflection  or  invective 
against  hens,  as  such. 

Fourth  Stanza :  Observe  how  just  and 
truthful  are  the  details,  how  Georgiana's 
right  to  a  certain  pride  of  manner,  which  in 
deed  was  hers,  is  critically  based  upon  the 


Ballad  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores    1 57 

brightness  of  her  eyes,  upon  the  approximate 
completeness  of  her  toes.  And  yet  it  is 
honourably  admitted  that  there  was  a  defi 
ciency  of  tail  feathers. 

Fifth  Stanza:  As  the  ballads  of  folklore 
are  ever  distinguished  by  a  certain  abrupt 
ness  of  climax,  so  here  Susannah.  Note  the 
present  tense,  used  only  in  this  stanza.  In 
the  last  line,  how  remarkable  in  effect  is  the 
passionate  interjection  which  follows  the 
simple  statement  of  Georgiana's  catas 
trophe  ! 

Sixth  Stanza:  Last  line,  "slithered"— a 
difficult  word,  and  yet  effective!  The 
whole  line  is  masterly. 

Seventh  Stanza :  The  last  line  is  clearly  a 
Shelleyan  reminiscence,  a  trace  of  my  read 
ings  aloud  of  that  poet.  And  yet,  if  Susan 
nah  had  plagiarised,  it  was  at  least,  boldly, 
frankly. 

Eighth  and  Last  Stanza:  Note  the  con 
trast  between  the  defiant  and  denunciatory 
address  to  the  "whales  and  sharks,"  and  the 


158    Ballad  of  Georgiana  and  Dolores 

pleading  gentleness  of  that  petition  to  the 
"little  fish,"  that  they  receive  with  comfort 
and  affection  those  sad  and  houseless  visit 
ants,  who  had  perished  not  ignobly,  not  un 
worthily. 

A  poem  composed  by  Sadler  on  the  fore 
going  events : 

"  The  climates  got  out  on  a  spree, 

A  heaven-and-hell  carouse, 
And  Satan  built  along  the  sea 

The  pillars  of  his  house; 
And  'mong  them  all  they  drowned  one  hen, 

One  played-out,  seedy  cat, 
And  then  slid  off  to  sea  again, 

And  let  it  go  at  that, 
Leaving  some  waves  to  sob  and  worry, 

Leaving  Susannah  crying. — 
Oh,  Lord,  this  world  is  sound  and  fury, 

And  nothing  signifying. 
But  come  a  time  when  heaven  and  hell 

Has  settled  their  arrears, — 
'Bout  twilight  of  the  judgment  day, 

When  all  the  books  are  put  away, 
And  all  the  little  souls  gone  home 

Each  to  its  place  in  kingdom  come— 
The  Lord  and  me,  we'll  set  and — well, 

We'll  set  around  and  talk  a  spell 
About  some  woman's  tears." 


CHAPTER  XXI 
Susannab  anD  IRam 


THE  deck  of  the  Violet  ta  had  resumed 
its  ordinary  domestic  look.  True,  no 
Dolores  lay  on  the  carpet,  no  Georgiana 
pecked  and  scratched  in  the  scuppers.  At 
some  distance  apart  on  his  rug,  his  basket 
behind  him,  in  deep  abstraction,  sat  Ram 
Nad. 

Ram  Nad  had  absent-mindedness  down  to 
a  science.  He  could  roll  up  his  eyeballs  and 
go  off  like  a  bullet.  When  not  abstracted 
he  usually  played  jackstraws.  What  rec 
ondite  connection  there  was  between  him 
and  jackstraws  I  never  made  out,  but  I  sus 
pected  it  was  the  delicate  sleight  of  hand  re 
quired,  and  the  practice  it  gave  him,  which 
fastened  him  to  that  Occidental  game.  Cer 
tainly  I  would  back  him  against  any  jack- 
straw  player  —  But  there  never  was  such  a 
159 


160      Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

jackstraw  player  before.  The  laws  of 
physics  were  nothing  to  him.  Gravitation 
in  jackstraws  he  ignored. 

Sadler,  Susannah,  and  I  were  in  conversa 
tion  under  the  awning,  but  Mrs.  Ulswater 
sat  a  long  time  silent. 

"Doctor,"  she  said  at  last,  "do  you  think 
Ram  Nad  could  have  Georgiana  and  Dolores 
in  his  basket?" 

Susannah  started.  On  me  too  the  idea 
had  a  certain  volcanic  effect. 

"Why  suppose  so?"  I  said.  "Is  there 
evidence?  Have  you  a  subtle  instinct? 
Does  he  look  a  shade  more  virtuous  than 
usual?  If  he  does,  it  would  go  to  prove  he 
has  been  accumulating  sin.  But  does  he? 
He  looks  to  be  precisely  as  usual.  Why 
suppose  they  didn't  go  overboard?  Why 
not  adopt  my  theory  and  Susannah's  of 
Dolores'  pathetic  departure?" 

"I  suppose  they  did." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  sighed,  and  was  silent  for 
some  moments  before  she  went  on : 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      161 

"But  if  Ram  Nad  churned  them  into  his 
basket  the  way  he  does  with  things,  after 
what  I've  told  him,  it's  flat  disobedience,  and 
I  won't  stand  it  from  a  heathen.  Georgiana 
never  would  go  on  deck  when  the  wind  blew, 
and  they  were  both  in  the  cabin  the  night 
before  the  water  spouts.  Of  course  if  I 
accused  him  of  it,  and  it  wasn't  so,  he'd  be 
perfectly  crushing.  He'd  be  crushing  if  it 
zvas  true,  for  that  matter.  But  somehow  I 
don't  see  how  it  could  have  happened,  and  I 
won't  have  Ram  Nad  getting  the  best  of  me. 
I  wish  you'd  see  if  you  can  find  out." 

Now  if  anything  suits  my  temperament 
and  talent,  it  is  wily  diplomacy,  and  the 
worming  out  of  another  man  by  devious 
ways  the  carefully  guarded  secret  of  his 
soul.  I  took  a  camp  stool  and  sat  down  be 
fore  Ram  Nad.  He  was  abstracted  behind 
the  whites  of  his  rolled-up  eyes.  I  said  with 
subtle  suavity : 

"Wake  up,  you  old  Cingalese  snake  of  a 
juggler!" 


1 62     Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

Ram  Nad  came  out  of  infinity,  and 
answered  with  welcoming  gesture: 

"Imbecile,  why  do  you  trouble  me?" 

"Where,"  I  said,  "are  Georgiana  and  Do 
lores,  you  depraved  and  disgusting  pundit?" 

"How  do  I  know,  pig?" 

But  this  limpid  flow  of  pure  reason  was 
not,  it  seemed  to  me,  really  headed  for  Ram 
Nad's  soul  secret.  I  skilfully  shifted  the 
attack. 

"Why,  in  this  way  you  might  have  an 
idea,  illustrious.  As  I  understand  your 
theory  of  everything,  it's  this:  The  entire 
universe,  you  say,  is  only  a  general  idea 
which  has  the  misfortune  to  be  particularised 
in  spots.  Normally,  it's  just  an  abstract 
conception,  but  parts  of  the  conception  have 
somehow  blundered  into  a  curious  condition 
called  concreteness.  A  very  distressing 
condition,  very.  Bless  my  soul!  Concrete- 
ness  is  an  awful  catastrophe." 

"As  you  state  it  so,  it  may  be  so  stated," 
said  Ram  Nad. 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      163 

"Now  then,  if  any  person  then,  such  as 
Georgiana  or  Dolores,  either  tragically,  or 
peacefully,  or  in  any  manner  whatever,  be 
comes  dead,  you  say  of  them,  simply :  They 
have  returned  to  generality;  they  are  no 
more  separately  existent;  they  are  rid  of  the 
burden  of  identity;  they  have,  so  to  speak, 
disappeared  in  that  airy  original  mixture 
again.  Such  would  be  your  description  of 
the  case." 

"You  possess  some  misunderstood  frag 
ments  of  truth,  O  brother,"  said  Ram  Nad. 

"Very  good.  But  see  here!  When  you 
churn  things  in  that  remarkable  basket  of 
yours,  and  they  are  gone,  and  I  ask : 
'Where  are  they?'  you  invariably  say: 
They  have  become  general  ideas.'  When 
I  ask  why  I  can't  see  or  touch  them,  you 
answer,  'General  ideas  are  not  visible  or 
tangible,  but  are  of  the  mind  purely.' 
Sometimes,  at  this  point,  I  have  perhaps 
ejaculated, 'Gammon!'  I  apologise.  Some 
times,  on  the  other  hand,  you  have  ex- 


164     Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

claimed,  'Imbecile !'  I  forgive.  The  ques 
tion  is  this :  What's  the  difference  between 
being  generalised  in  a  basket,  and  being 
generalised  by  drowning?  Are  they  not  the 
same?  Or  do  you  follow  my  argument,  il 
lustrious?" 

Ram  Nad  considered. 

"This  is  a  worthy  inquiry,  O  brother. 
It  may  be  your  mind  is  at  last  becoming 
capable  of  thought?  But  how  shall  I  an 
swer.  Is  there  a  difference?  Should  I  not 
answer  that  there  is  none?" 

"There  can't  be,  Ram  Nad,  there  can't 
be !"  I  exclaimed.  "Reason  proves  it. 
Then,  see  here!  Why  can't  you,  then,  re 
store  Georgiana  and  Dolores?  It's  all  the 
same,  for  reason  proves  it." 

If  there  did,  as  I  fancied,  for  an  instant 
pass  over  Ram  Nad's  patriarchal  face,  into 
his  meditative  eyes,  an  expression,  if  not  of 
cunning,  at  least  of  a  certain  pleasant  hu 
manity,  it  vanished  quickly. 

"You  have  yourself  answered,''  he  said. 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      165 

'The  difference  is  this :  if  the  cat  and  hen  of 
inquiry  had  been  generalised  here  by  me,  I 
could  so  restore  them;  but  because  they  are 
drowned,  I  am  not  able.  Therefore  the 
question  is  answered." 

"I  see.  That  was  the  point.  I  thought 
maybe  you  could — a  pardonable  mistake — 
your  talents  are  so  extraordinary.  I  thought 
you  might  be  a  resurrectionist  on  the  side. 
You'll  excuse  me,  I'm  sure." 

Ram  Nad  withdrew  again  behind  the 
whites  of  his  eyes,  and  I  returned  to  the 
awning,  reflecting.  Ram  Nad  had  lacked 
hypnotic  subjects  since  Mrs.  Uls\vater  put 
her  foot  down  on  his  fixing  any  human  in 
habitant  of  the  Violctta  that  way. 

But  it  struck  me  I'd  never  known  a  man 
with  so  fine  an  outfit  for  casuistry  as  Ram 
Nad,  such  a  liquid  and  euphuistic  term  for 
slaughter  and  theft,  such  philosophic  refine 
ment  in  the  practical  process.  Thus:  you 
generalise  your  neighbour's  watch.  It  be 
comes  an  abstract  idea,  and  belongs  to  the 


1 66     Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

original  nebulous  unity  of  pure  conception. 
You  go  around  the  corner  and  concentrate 
your  mind  on  the  idea  till  it's  particular 
again.  You  get  about  the  same  watch. 
Maybe  not.  Pretty  similar.  It  seemed  so 
to  me. 

"I  pass,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Ulswater.  "Who 
plays  next?  Ram  Nad's  got  'em,  that's  my 
penetrative  opinion;  but  he  can  bluff  like  a 
fire  engine." 

"I'm  going  to  give  him  a  piece  of  my 
mind,"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  indignantly. 

"Why,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "I  don't  believe 
it  would  fetch  them.  I  believe  Ram  Nad 
could  put  even  a  piece  of  your  mind  into  his 
basket,  and  churn  it  to  a  harmless  general 
ity.  I  do  indeed.  Your  play,  Sadler." 

"Spank  him,"  murmured  Sadler,  sleepily. 

"Ha!  King  Ogel!  Hum!  Why  didn't 
we  induce  Ram  Nad  to  generalise  that  king? 
Mightn't  it  have  had  a  sort  of — shall  I  say? 
— a  refining  effect,  a  deodourising  effect? 
Well,  maybe  not.  Spanking  was,  in  his 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      167 

case,  I  should  say,  bracing,  suggestive;  as 
applied  to  a  king,  I  admit  its  point.  But, 
now,  as  applied  to  a  patriarch,  I  should  draw 
the  line,  I  really  should.  Your  turn,  Susan 
nah." 

Susannah  sprang  up  and  started  across 
the  deck  toward  Ram  Nad.  We  watched 
her  in  silence,  in  expectation.  She  stood 
before  him  a  moment  conversing,  then 
dragged  the  conical  basket  around  in  front 
of  him,  and  of  her  own  accord  climbed  into 
it.  This  was  interesting.  We  all  three 
arose  and  drew  near  them,  while  Ram  Nad 
covered  the  opening  with  a  corner  of  his 
loose  garments,  and  fell  to  that  familiar  pro 
cedure  resembling  the  motion  by  which,  with 
fork  or  spoon,  the  energetic  housewife 
blends  and  fuses  the  delicately  organised  egg 
into  a  yellow  somewhat,  an  inorganic  mess. 

Wherein  Ram  Nad's  skill  or  secret  con 
sisted,  its  scientific  theory,  I  did  not — I  do 
not  now — profess  or  expect  to  know.  I  call 
him  an  A  i  magician,  and  pass  the  deal.  Did 


1 68      Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

it  consist  in  hypnotic  deception  of  the  ob 
server?  I  incline  to  that  idea,  on  account 
of  the  element  of  gammon  therein.  Was  it 
some  unusual  sleight  of  hand?  Was  it  a 
knowledge  and  control  of  some  occult  but 
natural  law  ?  I  have  at  times  leaned  to  that 
hypothesis,  only  to  return  again  either  to 
gammon  or  the  pleasant  repose  of  a  gaseous 
doubt.  He  appeared  to  be  able  on  request, 
with  any  object  not  too  large  to  go  into  his 
absorbent  basket,  there  to  dissolve  the  said 
object  into  nothing.  You  could  look  into 
the  basket.  You  could  feel  with  the  hand. 
You  could  search  Ram  Nad's  clothes,  or 
comb  his  beard.  You  would  come  to  the 
end  of  ultimate  wisdom,  and  conclude  to 
pass  the  deal.  Then,  on  request,  he  would 
reproduce  the  object. 

Susannah  is  not  a  large  object;  she  is 
about  the  size  of  Mrs.  Ulswater. 

"You're  sure  she  isn't  taking  any  harm?" 
said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  peering  into  the  mys 
teriously  empty  basket.  "What  on  earth 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      169 

did  you  do  with  her?  Well,  she's  not  there. 
Fetch  her  out." 

Ram  Nad  covered  the  opening,  churned  a 
bit,  and  then  rolled  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes 
and  concentrated  his  mind. 

"Stuff!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater,  "You're 
pretending." 

"Show  not  knowledge  to  a  woman,"  said 
Ram  Nad,  politely,  "but  indulgence." 

"Fiddlesticks !" 

He  turned  the  basket  upside  down.  Mrs. 
Ulswater  tipped  it  over. 

By  the  sacred  Bo  Tree,  by  the  antiseptic 
waters  of  Benares,  what  is  the  wisdom  of 
the  East  against  the  logic  of  Susannah  ? 

"Susannah!"  I  cried.  Sadler  and  I 
clasped  hands  and  danced,  glorious  and 
flamboyant,  in  the  circular  manner  of  a 
"ring-round-rosy." 

"Susannah,  hosannah !"  I  cried,  and  Sad 
ler  channted : 

"  Ram  Nad,  you're  a  son  of  a  gun,  tralala, 
Ram  Nad,  if  that  isn't  one,  tralala, 
On  you  I  don't  happen  to  know," 


170      Susannah  and  Ram  Nad 

and  continued,  chaunting: 

"  You'd  better  quit  sinning  of  sins,  tralala, 
Or  you'll  maybe  be  breaking  your  shins,  tralala, 
On  things  you  don't  happen  to  know." 

For  there  on  the  deck,  smiling  quaintly,  sat 
Susannah!  There,  clasped,  one  in  each  of 
her  arms,  were  Georgiana  and  Dolores ! 

Ram  Nad  rose  silently.  Martyred  meek 
ness  was  the  foundation  of  his  facial  ex 
pression.  Dignity  and  charity  were  its 
fringes  and  decorations.  He  went  forward 
among  the  sailors. 

Calm  was  restored.  Susannah  explained. 
She  had  thought  that,  if  Ram  Nad  had  put 
Georgiana  and  Dolores  in  some  sort  of  place, 
and  if  he  did  the  same  thing  to  her,  perhaps 
she  would  be  in  the  same  place,  and  why 
shouldn't  she  find  them?  Such  was  Susan 
nah's  logic,  simple,  yet  transcendental. 
Questioned  on  the  matter  of  being  churned, 
she  said  that  she  began  to  feel  very  comfort 
able  and  soft,  and  then  something  like  cus 
tard,  and  then  like  custard  that  was  all 


Susannah  and  Ram  Nad      171 

around  everywhere;  that  is,  she  was  both 
custard  herself  and  contained  in  custard; 
and  so,  reaching  out  in  the  custard  of  which 
she  consisted,  she  caught  hold  of  Georgiana 
and  Dolores.  So  far  Susannah.  Such  is 
all  the  evidence  bearing  on  this  singular 
event. 

"Susannah,"  I  said,  "I  like  your  analysis. 
Do  you  happen  to  feel  anything  in  the  nature 
of  a  ballad  beginning  to — to  root  around 
inside  you?  Because — here  is  the  point. 
This  ballad,  as  it  stands,  of  Georgiana  and 
Dolores,  you  see " 

"That !"  said  Susannah,  scornfully,  "that's 
no  good  now.  It  isn't  so." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Conclusion  of  Dr.  TUlswater's  Xast 
Manuscript 

FOR   four  reasons  we  purpose  now  to 
move,  by  summery  stages  and  many 
an  ocean  isle,  to  Portate,  whither  these,  my 
written  words,  will  perhaps  not  long  precede 
us. 

The  four  reasons:  First;  the  poet  Sadler 
claims  to  have  been  once  banished  by  execu 
tive  edict  from  the  city  of  Portate,  and  has 
a  notion  he  would  like  to  examine  his  con 
dition  of  exile,  so  to  speak,  at  close  range;  to 
poke  once  more  a  certain  irascible  Jefe 
Municipal,  or  Mayor,  doubtless  of  your  ac 
quaintance,  in  the  midriff  of  his  temper. 
Second;  Mrs.  Ulswater  seems  to  have  a 
singular  hankering  affection  for  one  who, 
she  says,  "was  the  nicest  boy  there  is," — a 
distinct  opinion  in  a  confusion  of  tenses. 
172 


Conclusion  of  Last  Manuscript   173 

Third;  the  poet  Susannah.  Now  what  the 
bearing  may  be,  in  Mrs.  Ulswater's  mind,  of 
Portate  on  Susannah,  is  not  so  clear  to  me. 
But  to  me  this  is  clear,  that  Susannah  is  in 
a  way  outgrowing  the  capacity  of  islands. 
She  is  in  need,  I  admit,  of  a  continental  con 
nection.  Fourth ;  I  have  some  researches  to 
make  in  South-American  archaeology. 

Ah,  Susannah !  What  is  there  about  this 
frank  maidenhood  that  a  mist  sometimes 
gathers  in  Mrs.  Ulswater's  lucid  eyes  in 
looking  at  her.  Susannah's  nature  is  not,  as 
yet,  I  should  say,  compact  of  softest  senti 
ment.  Passionate  in  affection,  sudden  in 
resolve,  terrific  in  action,  given  to  valour  and 
wrath,  why  about  her  should  the  emotions 
of  this  vessel  all  dance  in  a  species  of  har 
monious  jig?  Why  should  this  concussive 
and  rebounding  person  rouse  in  my  own 
glutinous  nature  a  phosphorescent  glow,  as 
of  a  jelly  fish,  and  cause  my  languid  tentacles 
of  emotion  to  flutter  about  like  a  flag  in  the 
wind  ?  Why  lies  the  melancholy  Sadler  to- 


74  Conclusion  of  Last  Manuscript 

night  on  the  small  of  his  back  in  a  deck 
chair,  his  knees  hooked  over  the  rail,  his  feet 
pendant  above  the  sea,  and,  in  a  foggy  voice, 
to  an  abominable  tune  and  the  twankle  of 
an  exasperating  banjo,  sing : 

"  Good  night,  my  Starlight, 
Queen  of  my  heart. 
You  are  my  star  bright, 
We  are  apart. 
Me  where  the  high  seas 
Thunder  and  smite, 
You  in  your  sky  dreams, 
Good  night,  Starlight." 

I  do  not,  indeed,  apprehend  Sadler  to  be 
directly  addressing  Susannah,  as  such,  in 
these  terms  and  with  that  inharmonious 
vocalisation;  but  I  apprehend  the  impact  of 
Susannah  upon  Sadler  to  arouse  in  him 
something  other  than  jubilation,  something 
within  the  sunless  caverns  of  his  memory, 
certain  uneasy  glimmerings  of  an  old  ro 
mance.  And  I  ask,  why?  To  the  eye  of 
pure  reason,  Susannah  contains  as  much  of 
the  vapour  of  moonlit  sentiment  as  a  coal 
scuttle.  The  eye  of  pure  reason,  after  any 


Conclusion  of  Last  Manuscript   175 

continuous  examination  of  Susannah,  feels 
as  if  it  had  been  in  a  prize  fight,  and  emerged 
therefrom  a  blackened  optic  and  out  of 
business  for  the  time.  And  yet  there  arises 
— hark!  again,  above  the  low  breath  of  the 
sea  wind,  rises  that  melancholy  song : 

"  Good  night,  my  Starlight, 
Trembling  to  tears, 
White  is  my  hair,  white 
In  the  wake  of  the  years. 
Over  the  lee  wave 
You  shine  on  my  night, 
Me,  the  old  sea  waif, 
Good  night,  Starlight  ?" 

Yours — ULSWATER. 

(End  of  Dr.  Ulswater's  Fourth  and  Last 
Manuscript. ) 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

fl  iResume  tbe  Iftarrative.   Gbe  fcortate 
Ultimatum 

THE  city  of  Portate,  on  the  west  coast 
of  South  America,  when  I  knew  it, 
had  already  a  distinct  flavour  of  enterprise. 
Two  Northern  companies  had  much  to  do 
with  its  affairs.  One  of  them,  The  Union 
Electric,  had  the  trolleys  and  the  street  light 
ing;  the  other  had  been  longer  on  the 
ground,  was  called  The  Transport  Company, 
and  owned  the  inland  railroad  and  the  prin 
cipal  line  of  steamers  in  the  harbour.  I  had 
charge  of  The  Union  Electric  plant.  Both 
were  large  companies  operating  in  numerous 
South-American  cities. 

There  is  a  river  called  the  Jiron,  which 

runs  down  from  the  mountains,  and  makes  a 

green  strip  through  a  desert  land,  and  so  on 

through  Portate  to  the  sea.     Even  from  the 

176 


The  Portate  Ultimatum 


177 


sea  you  can  make  out  the  white  caps  of  the 
Andes;  but  in  the  heats  of  Portate,  you  de 
cline  to  believe  that  the  white  is  snow. 

Portate  is  the  seaport  of  the  country. 
There  is  a  telegraph  line  running  inland  to 
the  capital.  The  monkeys  do  gymnastics  on 
the  wires,  and  the  natives  steal  sections  of  it 
to  tie  their  roofs  on  with,  on  the  theory  that 
the  thing  is  plain  foolishness,  and  the  enter 
prise  of  fools  is  the  profit  of  the  wise.  Then 
you  go  around  and  lam  the  native  and  take 
the  wire,  but  he  stays  by  his  own  opinion,  and 
the  Government  wants  to  know  what  you 
mean  by  allowing  official  messages  to  be  in 
terrupted  ;  for,  they  say,  monkeys  and  roofs 
are  not  in  the  contract,  and  call  it  improper 
frivolity  to  mention  them:  ''Why  tie  on 
roofs  with  official  messages?  Why  im 
properly  submit  important  business  to  the 
gymnastics  of  creatures  without  intelli 
gence?" — till  you  come  out  of  it  by  swear 
ing  yourself  blood  relation  to  all  the  monkeys 
on  the  Jiron,  which  seems  as  satisfactory  as 


178     The  Portate  Ultimatum 

anything,  being  put  down  to  the  inherited 
madness  of  the  Northerner.  There  are 
several  varieties  of  monkeys  on  the  Jiron. 

In  the  city  of  Portate  there  are  wharves, 
which  float  off  to  sea  in  freshets,  and  have 
to  be  pursued  and  brought  back  in  disgrace. 
The  trolley  line  goes  from  the  wharves  to 
the  Plaza,  and  then  visiting  about  town. 
The  telephones  and  electric  lights  are  the 
pride  of  the  enlightened,  but  the  unen 
lightened  think  they  are  run  by  connection 
with  that  pit  of  the  sinful  about  which  Padre 
Rafael  is  an  authority. 

"For,  observe !  It  is  not  as  wood  that  it 
burns.  Madre  de  Dios,  no !  It  is  the  wrath 
of  the  devil  on  the  end  of  a  stick." 

The  Union  Electric  had  the  contract  for 
the  whole  outfit  of  the  lights  and  trolleys, 
and  sent  me  down  to  handle  it.  I  had  good 
nerve  then.  I  thought  electricity  was  king, 
and  that  a  man  could  do  anything  he  set  out 
to  do.  He  can,  but  my  nerve  is  not  so  good 
now. 


The  Portate  Ultimatum      179 

Now  The  Union  Electric  Company's  con 
tract  was  to  furnish  the  city  of  Portate  so 
many  arc  lights,  at  so  much  a  month  per 
light,  with  monthly  payments,  but  there  was 
more  politics  in  it  than  I  was  used  to.  It 
took  me  some  time  to  see  that  if  the  Mayor 
bought  a  set  of  gilt  furniture  on  the  28th, 
and  the  paymaster  a  span  of  horses  on  the 
29th,  it  wasn't  reasonable  to  bring  them  a 
city  lighting  bill  on  the  3Oth.  But  they 
thought  it  unreasonable,  and  after  awhile  I 
came  near  thinking  so  too.  I  had  to  get  five 
signatures  to  each  bill,  and  the  signatures 
took  turns  going  off  into  the  country  be 
tween  the  30th  and  the  I5th.  After  that 
they  generally  came  with  protests  in  paren 
theses,  that  arc  No.  53  had  been  observed 
by  respected  gentlemen  to  sputter  im 
properly,  and  that  arc  No.  5,  on  a  certain 
night,  had  refused  to  burn,  in  contempt  of 
authority, — which  was  because  a  native  had 
heaved  a  stone  into  it,  out  of  religious 
scruples.  They  were  always  in  arrears. 


180     The  Portate  Ultimatum 

They  liked  it  that  way.  They  said  it  was 
delay  in  tax-collecting.  It  was  very  warm. 
Did  the  Senor  suffer  from  the  heat?  Alas! 
the  tax  collector  was  too  fat.  It  had  been 
represented  to  his  Excellency  that  tax 
collectors  should  be  thinner.  They 
were  thirty  thousand  dollars  behind.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  city  of  Portate 
was  too  happy.  It  didn't  have  troubles 
enough. 

I  went  to  see  the  Mayor,  what  they  call 
the  "Jefe  Municipal." 

He  was  a  puffy  old  man,  of  about  the  fat 
ness  of  the  tax  collector,  but  smaller,  and 
wore  a  white  moustache  and  imperial  in  such 
a  way  that  it  seemed  to  be  his  symbol  of 
authority. 

I  said,  "Mayor,  the  city  owes  me  thirty 
thousand  dollars." 

"Is  it  possible!"  he  cried,  holding  up  his 
hands.  "But  we  do  pay  you  too  much. 
How  does  the  city  owe  you  so  much  if  it  is 
not  too  much?" 


The  Portate  Ultimatum      1 8  i 

That  was  good  tropical  logic.  Tropical 
logic  always  confused  me. 

"My  friend,"  he  said,  "is  it  not  in  your 
country  also  that  the  corporation  oppresses 
the  people?" 

'The  Union  Electric,"  I  said,  "doesn't  do 
business  for  love  of  humanity,  and  it  didn't 
send  me  down  here  for  my  health." 

"Alas!  No?"  sighed  the  Mayor,  wiping 
his  forehead.  "The  corporations  are  with 
out  souls,  pitiless.  I  read  it  in  a  newspaper, 
that  also  of  the  United  States.  But  if  the 
Sefior's  health  is  delicate,  a  trip  to  the 
hills " 

"I  give  you  till  Wednesday  night." 

He  brightened  up. 

"It  is  a  festival  night.  The  municipal 
band  will  play  in  the  Plaza.  The  people  will 
dance.  Portate  is  a  city  of  pleasure,  a 
second  Paris.  And  you,  Sefior,  will 
honour  us,  on  the  balcony  of  the  magis 
trates." 

"Thirty  thousand  dollars  by  Wednesday 


1 82     The  Portate  Ultimatum 

night,  or  I  shut  off  the  lights.  With  great 
regret,  your  Excellency " 

"Senor " 

"It's  an  ultimatum.  Allow  me  to  express, 
nevertheless " 

The  Mayor  rose,  smiling. 

"Nevertheless,  you  will  observe  the  festi 
val.  A  delight,  Senor,  a  panorama !" 

I  went  over  and  tried  to  impress  the  pay 
master,  but  he  wouldn't  be  impressed  either. 
He  said  arc  No.  38  was  shining  persistently 
into  the  upper-story  windows  of  the  house 
of  a  municipal  councillor,  against  his  honour 
and  privacy.  He  said  the  son  of  the  munici 
pal  councillor  was  to  marry  his,  the  pay 
master's  daughter,  and  The  Union  Electric 
Company  oughtn't  to  disturb  such  alliances. 
I  went  down  to  the  plant  as  fast  as  possible, 
feeling  in  the  mind  to  see  people  that  were 
reasonable  and  steady,  like  the  six  dynamos. 

Chepa  was  my  foreman's  name,  and  a 
good  man  he  was — a  half-breed  of  fifty  years 
perhaps,  with  gray  hair  about  his  ears.  I 


The  Portate  Ultimatum      183 

told  him  I  was  going  to  shut  off  the  lights  if 
they  didn't  pay  up,  and  Chepa's  hair  stood 
on  end.  He  said  I  was  a  distinguished  gen 
tleman,  and  would  be  shot  for  an  anarchist 
together  with  himself. 

"Mother  of  heaven !  It  will  be  a  hot  time. 
Behold  me !  I  am  game !" 

I  told  him  he  wouldn't  need  any  more 
heroism  than  came  natural.  I  only  wanted 
him  to  switch  off,  and  throw  the  machines 
out  of  gear  at  nine  o'clock  Wednesday  night, 
and  then  disappear  for  a  day  or  two. 

"Don't  let  them  lay  eyes  on  a  hair  of 
you." 

That  was  Saturday  if  my  memory  is  right, 
the  third  of  May.  It  came  on  Wednesday 
without  any  more  interviews.  The  day  was 
hot,  and  I  didn't  see  that  the  tax  collector 
was  getting  thinner  with  extra  labour  of 
collecting  taxes.  But  the  preparations  for 
the  festival  were  going  on,  so  innocent  and 
peaceful  it  would  break  your  heart  to  see, 
with  ridiculous  strips  of  coloured  cloth 


184      The  Portate  Ultimatum 

around  the  wax-palms  on  the  Plaza;  for  a 
wax-palm  grows  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high,  and  looks  like  a  high-born  lady;  and 
red  and  white  stripes  around  the  foot  of  her, 
like  a  barber's  pole,  aren't  becoming.  I  sent 
up  a  man  with  the  bill  in  the  afternoon,  and 
he  came  back  saying  the  Mayor  was  so  busy 
with  his  uniform  that  he  wouldn't  look  at 
him.  I  gave  orders  to  shut  off  the  switch 
at  nine  o'clock.  About  eight  in  the  evening 
I  disguised  myself  with  a  cloak  and  a  vil 
lainous  slouch  hat,  and  left  my  house,  which 
was  a  mile  out  of  the  city,  though  handy  to 
the  plant.  The  cook  had  run  off  to  the 
Plaza,  and  I  plugged  up  the  telephone,  so  it 
was  a  house  that  couldn't  be  conversed  with. 
Then  I  walked  into  town. 

The  Mayor's  uniform  and  several  other 
uniforms  were  on  the  balcony  of  magistrates, 
the  Mayor  making  a  speech  to  the  effect  that 
it  was  a  municipality  without  parallel,  a 
second  Paris,  which  civilisation  regarded 
universally,  and  exclaimed,  "Behold  Por- 


The  Portate  Ultimatum      185 

tate !"  There  was  Padre  "Rafael,  standing 
directly  under  an  electric  light,  and  it  was 
curious  to  see  him  with  that  kind  of  saint's 
glory  around  him,  and  smiling  like  a  plaster 
cast  of  Benevolence.  Whoop-bang!  went 
the  brass  band,  with  the  bass  drum  miscel 
laneous,  and  the  cornets  audacious,  and  the 
trombones  independent,  but  aiming,  you 
might  say,  at  a  similar  tune.  And  all  the 
Plaza  fell  to  dancing  and  conversing,  with 
the  fountain  in  the  middle  sprinkling  reck 
lessly,  and  the  wax-palms  done  up  in  red  and 
white  bunting,  and  the  electric  light  shining 
uncannily,  with  their  bills  unpaid. 

"Come  up,  Padre  Rafael !"  shouts  the 
Mayor  presently,  catching  sight  of  his 
reverence,  "to  the  balcony  of  the  magistrates. 
It  is  a  glorious  occasion."  He  puffed  out 
his  chest  so  anybody  could  admire  that  liked. 

And  then  the  lights  went  out,  and  the 
band  ended  off  with  a  grunt  and  a  squeal. 

The  Plaza  was  black  as  a  hat,  only  for  a 
few  lights  in  the  windows,  and  quite  silent 


1 86      The  Portate  Ultimatum 

for  a  moment.  I  lit  out  when  the  howls 
began.  It  seemed  to  me  they'd  sound  better 
from  a  distance.  There  were  people  run 
ning  and  shouting  along  the  pitch-black 
streets.  But  getting  into  the  outskirts  of 
the  city,  I  found  there  were  a  few  stars  shin 
ing,  and  came  home  without  trouble.  I  sat 
down  on  a  bench  in  the  garden  and  waited. 
It  was  a  hundred  yards  or  more  from  the 
house.  It  was  very  peaceful,  with  all  man 
ner  of  tropical  scents  floating  around.  Shut 
ting  down  the  lights  of  Portate  didn't  seem 
to  bother  the  rest  of  South  America. 

By  and  by  a  carriage  drove  up,  and  there 
was  a  deal  of  banging  at  the  doors,  and 
tramping  around  the  house.  I  thought  it 
was  an  under-official  that  threw  a  rock 
through  the  window,  not  a  real  dignitary. 
Later  there  was  another  carriage,  more 
banging  and  tramping. 

I  went  to  bed  after  that.  I  don't  know 
how  long  they  tried  to  telephone  from  the 
City  Hall — the  telephone  didn't  say. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
Brrest 


WHEN  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  the 
sunlight  was  shining  brightly 
through  the  shutters,  and  I  lay  awhile  get 
ting  things  straightened  out  in  my  mind, 
wondering  what  the  authorities  would  do 
next,  and  sorting  my  own  cards.  Then  I 
noticed  a  murmuring  all  about,  not  like  a 
conversation  of  a  few  people,  but  like  the 
voices  of  a  crowd  at  some  distance.  I  took 
a  cautious  peek.  Oh,  my  native  country! 
The  yard  was  full  of  soldiers  of  the  City 
Guard  in  their  pink  uniforms,  all  squatting 
on  the  ground  very  dejectedly. 

"Hi!"  I  thought.  "There's  no  hurry 
about  getting  dressed.  The  cook  must  have 
stayed  shy,  or  they'd  have  got  me." 

I  never  saw  that  cook  again.  I've  heard 
that  he  came  on  the  soldiers  about  three 
187 


1 88  The  Arrest 


o'clock  in  the  morning,  camping  in  the  front 
yard.  Their  orders  were  to  stay  there  till  I 
came  home.  The  cook  went  off  into  the 
country  to  avoid  politics. 

"Speaking  of  the  cook  now,"  I  said  to  my 
self,  "they'll  arrest  me  without  breakfast. 
They'll  march  me  into  town  afoot,  like  a 
malefactor.  It  won't  do  for  the  dignity  of 
The  Union  Electric." 

With  that  I  wrapped  myself  and  the  tele 
phone  in  double  blankets,  took  out 
the  plug,  and  cautiously  rang  up  a  livery- 
stable. 

"Carriage!"  I  said,  "to  Senor  Kirby's 
house,  North  Road,  in  an  hour." 

Then  I  prospected  in  the  kitchen  on  tiptoe, 
and  collected  a  spirit-lamp  and  such  matters, 
got  dressed,  and  breakfasted  behind  the 
shutters  with  a  calmness  that  was  a  bit 
artificial.  The  City  Guard  wasn't  break 
fasting.  By  the  calamitous  features  of  the 
elderly  officer  sitting  on  my  horse-block, 
they  didn't  expect  to.  El  Capitano  Lugo 


The  Arrest  189 


was  his  name,  and  a  very  friendly  man,  after 
breakfast. 

I  sat  smoking  behind  the  shutters,  and 
waited  for  the  carriage,  which  came  along 
leisurely  about  nine.  The  soldiery  destroyed 
the  picket-fence  getting  into  the  road  all  to 
gether. 

"What  news  ?"  said  El  Capitano  Lugo. 

The  driver  was  a  scared  man. 

"Eh!"  he  said.  "But  I  know  nothing, 
Senor  Capitano,  nothing!  Carriage  to 
Senor  Kirby,  North  Road.  A  telephone." 

"It  is  an  empty  house,  idiot !" 

With  that  they  were  all  crowded  close 
about  the  carriage,  talking  in  low  tones,  but 
excited.  It  was  about  ghosts,  as  the  cap 
tain  told  me  after,  and  there  ran  a  theory 
among  them  that  I  had  been  a  spirit  for  the 
last  twelve  hours,  turning  off  lights  and 
sending  telephones  to  avenge  the  atrocity  of 
my  murder. 

But  it  got  no  farther  than  a  theory,  be 
cause  of  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  me 


190 


The  Arrest 


coming  out  on  the  porch  in  duck  trousers, 
polka-dot  tie,  and  a  calm  that  was  artificial. 

"Is  that  my  carnage?"  I  asked. 

"Ah!"  shouted  the  captain,  making  for 
me,  over  the  wrecks  of  the  picket-fence.  I 
said: 

"How  d'ye  do?" 

"I  arrest  you !"  said  he. 

"Of  course  you  do.  Get  into  the  car 
riage." 

And  off  we  went  bowling  toward  the  city, 
with  the  guard  plodding  far  behind  in  pink 
uniforms,  and  very  dejected.  Captain  Lugo 
himself  would  answer  nothing  when  I  tried 
to  show  him  that  pink  uniforms  were  in  bad 
taste  for  a  city  guard. 

But,  oh,  the  extravagance  of  language  at 
the  City  Hall,  and  the  Mayor  with  his 
beautiful  temper  in  ruins ! 

"Intolerable!  The  contempt  of  dignity, 
the  mockery  of  constituted  power!  By 
whose  orders  were  the  lights  turned 
off?" 


The  Arrest  191 


"Mine,  your  Excellency,  of  course.  Told 
you  all  about  it  last  Saturday." 

"A  la  car  eel!"  he  shouted,  with  his  official 
moustache  standing  up  at  the  ends.  "He  has 
despised  the  city.  Take  him  to  jail,  hastily." 

"You'd  better  look  out,"  I  said.  "It's  an 
international  complication.  The  United 
States  will  be  capturing  Portate  with  an  ex 
tension  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine,"  I  said, 
fishing  wildly  for  an  argument. 

"Insolent  foreigner !"  said  he. 

"May  Portate  be  darkened  forever!" 
said  I. 

"A  la  cared  !*'  said  he,  and  four  pink  uni 
forms  hustled  me  and  my  duck  trousers  out 
into  the  street  and  around  the  corner  to  the 
jail. 

Now  that  was  an  unpleasing  place  to  be 
in.  I  charged  up  fifty  dollars  for  the  ex 
perience,  to  The  Union  Electric  Company, 
who  said  it  was  a  good  joke  and  paid  it, 
eventually;  but  it  wasn't  a  joke. 

The  jail  was  an  expanse  of  deal-wall  on 


I92  The  Arrest 


the  street,  except  at  one  place  where  there 
was  an  architectural  doorway.     And  within 
there  was  a  large  patio  or  courtyard,  a  low 
adobe  building  surrounding  it,  with  rows  of 
open  cells,  and  a  sort  of  cemented  veranda 
in  front.     That  was  the  Portate  City  Jail 
entire.      There   were   guards  at  the   door. 
They  shoved  you  in,  and  you  did  what  you 
chose.     There  were  groups  of  dirty  peons 
lolling  about,  others  playing  some  game  with 
pebbles    and    fragments    of    cement,    two 
women  who  had  been  officially  interrupted 
while  pounding  each  other's  heads,  a  donkey, 
some  cats,  and  a  sad-eyed  pig,  all  arrested 
for  vagrancy. 

I  sent  a  guard  up  to  the  hotel  for  a  chair, 
and  sat  down  haughtily  in  the  corner  of  the 
veranda  behind  the  gateway  and  farthest 
from  the  sun.  The  groups  of  peons 
gathered  around  me.  Their  manners  were 
naturally  good,  but  they  couldn't  avoid  the 
romantic  fascination  of  me.  I  sent  another 
guard  with  a  telegram  to  the  United  States 


The  Arrest  193 


Minister  and  a  message  for  the  resident 
Consul.  I  gave  the  guard  a  dollar  to  buy 
tobacco  and  cigarette  papers,  and  compro 
mised  with  the  friendly  peons.  We  agreed 
on  a  circle  twenty  feet  away,  which  was  near 
enough  for  conversation,  and  far  enough  for 
a  draught  between.  There  was  a  wall  of 
them,  all  supplied  with  cigarettes,  and  me 
the  centre  of  observation.  We  discussed 
the  government  of  Portate,  and  there  was  no 
one  in  the  City  Jail  but  thought  it  needed 
reform. 

By  and  by  the  Consul  came,  and  he  was 
so  interested  and  pleased  with  the  situation 
that  he  wasn't  up  to  the  duties  of  his  office, 
as  I  told  him.  He  said  the  Mayor  was  in 
luck,  on  account  of  the  extreme  heat  up- 
country  at  the  capital. 

"My  guess  at  the  Mayor  is :  he's  figuring 
to  keep  you  in  jail  over  night  for  the  sake  of 
his  dignity,  and  cover  you  with  documentary 
apologies  in  the  morning,"  said  the  Consul. 
"And  I've  been  telegraphing  the  Minister, 


194 


The  Arrest 


and  can't  get  him;  for  he's  gone  hunting  up 
the  cool  of  the  mountains  with  the  President 
of  the  Republic,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior, 
and  some  other  official  parties.  I  say,  why 
did  you  pick  out  a  festival  and  presidential 
excursion  day?  You  bold,  bad  man!"  said 
he,  sticking  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
laughing  at  me. 

"Stay  here  all  night!"  I  shouted. 

"Can't  help  it,"  said  the  Consul,  grinning. 
"I've  done  all  I  could.  He'll  get  into  trou 
ble  likely.  What  can  I  do,  if  he  wants  to 
run  his  risk  and  stand  by  his  luck?" 

"I'll  denounce  you  at  home  for  inef 
ficiency." 

"Have  a  cot  bed?" 

"Get  out!" 

"Pleasant  dreams !"  he  said.  "It  '11  be  a 
hot  night;"  and  with  that  he  went  off  grin 
ning. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  slowly.  I  be 
gan  to  think  the  Mayor  might  have  me  down 
after  all,  and  wondered  if  Chepa  would  run 


The  Arrest  195 

the  plant  that  night  with  a  detachment  of 
pink  soldiery  over  him.     I  sent  a  guard  after 
some  lunch.     No  one  else  came  except  my 
lawyer,  who  brought  some  newspapers,  and 
said  the  Mayor  was  blushing  all  over  with 
happiness  and  conceit.     He  said  there  were 
crowds  in  the  Plaza,  and  sure  enough  you 
could  hear  the  mutter  and  shuffle  of  them, 
for  the  Plaza  was  but  a  few  blocks  away. 
It  seemed  to  me  they  were  making  more 
noise  than  before,  and  when  the  lawyer  was 
gone,  and  the  afternoon  was  late,  it  seemed 
to  have  grown  to  a  kind  of  dull  roaring,  with 
shouts  and  howls  intermixed.     The  peons 
in  the  patio  were  stirring  about,  too,  and 
jabbering.    The  dusk  was  coming  on  faintly. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
,  "dtewater's  IFnsurrection 

THERE  was  a  clatter  and  tramp  of 
feet  in  the  street  outside.  The  door 
of  the  patio  flew  open  with  a  bang. 

'Take  your  dirty  hands  off  me !"  Bang, 
went  the  door  again,  and  there  in  the  patio 
stood  a  little  squat  Irishman  with  red  hair 
and  stubby  black  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  called  to  him,  for 
his  hair  was  rumpled  and  his  coat  torn,  with 
rough  handling.  He  ran  to  me,  and  the 
crowd,  the  simple-hearted  criminality  of 
Portate,  gathered  around  us. 

"Hoosh!"  he  said.  "It's  an  insurrec 
tion,  sor.  I'm  arristed  for  distributin'  in- 
sidjus  proclamations  in  backwoods  Cas- 
thilian,  an'  the  guards  has  taken  me  last 
copy,  tellin'  how  The  Mayor  has  Tyran- 
nously  Arristed  the  Electric  Lights!  Re- 
196 


Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection    197 

lease  Misther  Kirby  or  Down  wid  the 
Mayor!  Shall  Portate  be  Darkened? 
Citizens,  Rise !'  Oh,  hivens,  me  entherprise 
and  adventures !" 

"Comb  down  your  red  hair,"  I  said,  "and 
go  on." 

"It's  auburrn,  sor!" 

"It's  fine  shade  of  gold,  you  Hibernian 
Apollo !  Who  in  time  are  you  ?" 

"I  come  in  yesterday  evenin'  on  the  Vio- 
letta." 

"What!" 

"Yes,  sor.  Me  name's  Hagan,  but  Sad 
ler's  gone  away  from  me,  an'  I  have  the 
trimbles  in  me  bones." 

"Well,  I'll  be  shot!     Are  they  all  right?" 

"Sure,  they  are." 

"Go  ahead  then." 

"Well,  sor,  me  an'  Sadler  an'  the  docther, 
we  got  ashore  as  soon  as  we  could.  'Twas 
in  the  early  evenin',  an'  thim  two  went  off 
somewhere  for  somewhat;  and  me,  I  went 
down  Bolivar  Street  to  an  old  haunt  of  me 


198    Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection 

mimories,  to  see  what  was  there.  An'  who 
should  come  out  of  the  caffy  but  Chepa. 
Sure,  he's  your  foreman  now,  but  onct  he 
was  me  frind  an'  dispised  acquaintance  in 
this  city  of  sinfulness  many  a  year  ago. 
'Red  hair !'  says  he  wid  a  shriek.  'Auburrn !' 
says  I,  'ye  grizzly  Dago.'  An'  wid  that  we 
embraced.  'Och,  Jimmie!'  he  says,  'you're 
the  man  I'm  wantin','  he  says.  'Where's 
Sadler?'  'I  dunno,'  I  says,  'not  just  now. 
He's  around  the  town.'  "Tis  happy  he'll  be 
then  this  night,'  he  says,  'for  society  an' 
politics,'  he  says,  'an'  populations  an' 
powers  '11  be  playin'  discordant  chunes,'  he 
says.  'Come  on,'  he  says,  'an'  help  me  un 
gear  thim  dynamos.'  Wid  that  we  started 
for  the  plant,  an'  me  not  knowin'  at  all  the 
divilmint  that  was  goin',  an'  we  come  to  the 
plant,  and  Chepa  set  the  dynamos  buzzin' 
like  bees,  an'  thin  sat  down  an'  explained 
his  language  wid  information.  'At  nine 
o'clock,'  he  says,  'I  shut  'em  off  and  disables 
the  machinery,'  an'  he  did.  Then  we  come 


Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection    199 

back  through  the  town  by  the  back  streets. 
There  was  wicked  rage  in  the  heart  of  Por- 
tate.  She  wint  to  bed  in  the  dark,  and  had 
bad  dreams.  But  we  come  down  to  the 
docks  an'  hired  a  boat  out  to  the  Violctta, 
and  we  told  the  missus  and  the  young 
la-ady  about  it.  After  awhile  comes  out 
the  boys  in  the  gig  wid  a  letther  from  the 
docther  sayin'  him  an'  Sadler  was  gone  up 
counthry  on  a  night  thrain  in  pursuit  of 
South- American  archylogy.  'Kit,'  says  the 
missus,  reaclin'  it  out  to  the  young  la-ady, 
'Kit  seems  to  have  this  city  in  a  barrel,  an' 
he's  plugged  the  shpigot,  an'  where  in  the 
barrel  he  is  I  dunno/  he  says,  'for  we've  been 
to  the  electric  plant  and  we've  banged  on  the 
doorway  of  his  house,  an'  nothin'  happened, 
an'  Portate  is  tumultuous  and  dark. 
Wherefore,'  he  says,  'I  argue  he  ain't  ex- 
pectin'  company  to-night,  an'  me  an'  Sadler 
is  goin'  up  counthry  afther  archylogy,'  he 
says,  'to  be  back  to-morry.'  'Goodness!' 
says  the  missis,  an'  she  an'  the  young  la-ady 


200    Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection 

went  down  for  the  night,  an'  me  an'  Chepa 
passed  it  cool  an'  balmy.     This  mornin'  the 
missis  sent  us  ashore  for  news.     But  oh,  the 
sights  of  the  ragin'  city !     Oh,  the  throuble 
an'  combustion  of  it!      A  crowd  of  men 
grabs  us  at  the  corner.     'Gintlemen,'  says 
Chepa,  'respected  senores,  'tis  the  wicked 
ness  of  the  Jefe,'  he  says,  'a-spindin'  on  gilt 
furniture  the  hard-earned  taxes  of  the  peo 
ple,  collected  by  the  tax  collector,'  he  says, 
Svid  the  shweat  of  his  fatness.     For  Senor 
Kirby,'  he  says,  'to  the  great  sorrow  of  him 
self,  havin'  run  out  of  electricity,  is  unable 
to  buy  more  on  account  of  the  avarice  and 
theft  of  the  beast  of  a  thief  of  a  Jefe,'  he 
says,  and  they  thought  so  too.     By  and  by 
comes  the  news  of  yourself  arristed  and  put 
in  jail.     'Jimmie,'  says  Chepa,  'it  will  not 
do.'     I   says  'It  will  not.'     An'   we  broke 
away  an'  went  back  to  the  Violctta.     An' 
very  interested  they  were,   sor,   the  missis 
an'    the    young    la-ady,    askin'    questions, 
an'   then   a-studyin'   an'    a-lookin'   at   ache 


Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection    201 

other.  'Well,'  says  the  missis,  'I  wish 
Doctor  Ulswater  hadn't  gone,  but  it's  the 
Jefe's  fault  an'  not  Mr.  Kirby's,  an'  I 
think  you  were  quite  right,  Mr.  Chepa,'  she 
says,  'to  tell  the  people  so.  But  of  coorse 
you  could  only  tell  a  few,'  she  says,  'an' 
I  suppose  most  of  thim  think  it's  Mr. 
Kirby's  to  blame,  an'  I  think  we  ought  to 
stop  that,'  she  says,  'so  I  think  we'd  bet- 
ther  have  a  lot  of  bills  printed  to  explain.' — 
'Hooroar!'  says  the  young  la-ady,  jumpin' 
up  and  wavin'  herself  in  the  atmosphere. 
Til  write  it !'  An'  wid  that  she  grabs  Chepa 
an'  plumps  down  wid  him  on  the  carpet,  an' 
what  wid  thim  two  composin'  inflaminous 
proclamations,  an'  me  a  shmokin'  me  poipe 
wid  terror  in  me  bosim  an'  me  face  smeared 
over  wid  insidjous  calm,  an'  the  missis  a 
lookiri'  off  at  Portate,  wid  her  knittin'  in 
her  hand  and  statesmanship  an'  revolution 
in  her  eye,  'twas  a  ould-shtyle  Fenian 
meetin',  sor,  an'  down  wid  the  landlords! 
'It's  hot,'  says  Chepa,  manin'  the  proclama- 


2O2    Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection 

tion.  'There's  no  foreign  governmint  to 
rescue  Chepa  wid  diplomacy.  They'll  hang 
me/  he  says,  'an'  'tis  no  matther.  Behold 
me,  senora!  I  am  game.'  'You  must  stay 
here,'  says  the  missis.  'Jimmie  will  have 
the  bills  printed  and  posted.'  'Oh,  senora !' 
says  Chepa,  lookin'  hurt.  'Of  coorse  you're 
not  afraid,'  she  says — an'  I  wished  she  knew 
that  I  was — 'but  it'd  be  bad  for  you  to  be 
arristed,'  she  says,  'an'  besides  there's  an 
other  reason.'  It  lies  in  the  nature  of  things, 
sor,  to  do  what  the  missis  says.  There's  no 
help  for  it.  I  came  into  Portate  alone,  wid 
myself,  an'  gold  in  me  trousers  pocket  which 
I  changes  to  the  barbarious  paper  money  of 
the  counthry  an'  scuttles  off  to  a  printer. 
'Set  it  up!'  I  says,  showin'  barbarious 
money.  'Print  it!'  An'  he  did  so,  wid  the 
fear  of  consequences  an'  the  lust  of  avarice. 
But,  sor,  ye  should  have  seen  the  amazin' 
innocence  an'  wrath  of  the  populace,  a- 
jumpin'  all  over  the  Plaza,  a-howlin',  a- 
wavin'  proclamations  an'  blackguardin'  the 


Mrs.  Ulswater's  Insurrection    203 

Mayor  for  arristin'  the  lights.  Prisintly 
comes  a  line  of  soldiers  wrigglin'  through 
the  crowd,  an'  one  of  'em  raps  me  over  the 
head  with  the  butt  of  his  gun,  out  of  the 
mistherable  shpite  of  him,  an'  they  takes  me 
red-handed  in  the  distribution  of  proclama 
tions,  an'  up  we  goes,  up  the  steps  of  the 
City  Hall,  before  the  public  was  onto  the 
insult  to  its  liberties.  An'  oh,  the  terrible 
language  of  the  Mayor,  a-kickin'  over  chairs 
in  the  corridor!  To  prisin,'  says  he, 
tearin'  his  hair  tremendjous.  'Ye'll  be  shot 
in  the  mornin','  says  he.  Then  they  took 
me  out  the  back  alley,  an'  down  here  sud 
den,  bein'  punched  in  the  back  wid  the  butt 
ends  of  the  rifles  of  a  misfit  soldiery,  an' 
thim's  the  facts." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
Hbe  Gruce 

SO  spoke  Jimmie  Hagan.  We  sat  look 
ing  at  each  other,  and  smoking  silently 
for  a  moment.  I  got  up  and  shooed  the 
motley  collection  of  human  things  around  us 
back  to  a  pleasanter  distance,  and  sat  down 
again  to  think.  But  still  I  didn't  see  alto 
gether  what  Mrs.  Uls water  thought  she  was 
going  to  do  with  her  insurrection.  It  was  a 
good  idea  of  hers  to  keep  Chepa  aboard  the 
Violetta.  But  a  mob  is  like  dynamite,  and  a 
person  ought  to  have  a  considerable  idea 
before  he  takes  it  on  himself  to  explode  one. 
A  Portate  mob  is  a  maniac  that  cuts  throats 
in  the  name  of  the  saints,  and  forgets  what 
started  him,  and  he  scatters  destruction  in 
all  directions.  For  a  man  said  to  be  with 
out  sand,  I  thought  Hagan  had  done  pretty 
well. 

"Sor,"  he  said,  "it's  this  way.     I  knew  the 
204 


The  Truce  205 


Mayor  long  ago,  an'  Sadler  knew  him  well, 
an'  I  know  the  Mayor's  the  same  man  wid 
the  tempestchtis  bowels  of  him,  for  he's  a 
nice  man  when  he's  cheerful,  but  he's  not  a 
wise  man  when  there's  trouble  comin'. 
Well,  sor,  Sadler  nor  the  docther  ain't  here, 
an'  what  one  of  them  doesn't  know  the  other 
does.  An'  some  men  was  born  to  order  and 
others  to  take  orders,  an'  I  dunno.  But,  if 
the  Kid  was  here  things'd  be  doin'.  Well, 
sor,  the  docther  is  filled  up  wid  handy  knowl 
edge  more'n  a  bushel  of  pertaties  wid  perta- 
ties,  but  when  it  comes  to  makin'  up  his 
mind,  it's  the  missis  does  it.  The  Violctta 
carries  more  contagious  brains  than's  native 
in  South  America,  an'  you're  askin'  what 
the  missis  had  in  mind,  an'  I  dunno.  But 
Chepa  says  there's  only  two  men  in  Por- 
tate  can  start  thim  disabled  machines  for 
to-night's  lightin',  to  say  nothin'  there's  not 
a  trolley  runnin'  in  the  city  this  day.  An' 
where's  those  two  men?  One  of  'em's 
here.  The  other's  on  the  Violetta,  but  the 


2o6  The  Truce 


Mayor  don't  know  where  he  is.     Well,  sor, 
what  can  he  do?     It's  not  for  me  to  say, 
but  there's  the  populace  shlingin'  stones  at 
the  City  Hall  this  blissid  minute  in  persua 
sion  of  the  Mayor's  wickedness.     An'  who 
persuaded  'em  of  the  Mayor's  wickedness? 
Trolleys  they  don't  so  much  care  for,  but 
there'll    be     lights     or     shootin',     an'     the 
Mayor'd  needn't  be  foolish,  an'  if  ye  ask  me, 
I'll  say  it's  the  missis  has  got  the  soople 
intelligence,  an'  no  throuble  at  all.     Hark  to 
'em  now !" 

The  roar  of  the  crowd  had  grown  to  be 
tremendous,  and  they  were  probably  throw 
ing  stones.  What,  indeed,  could  the  Mayor 
do  ?  The  peons  about  us  were  chattering  in 
excited  groups,  and  the  guards  at  the  gate 
were  distinctly  uneasy.  If  the  mob  came 
there,  I  could  make  a  fair  guess  what  the 
guards  would  do. 

There  was  a  sudden  clatter  in  the  streets, 
of  hoofs  and  wheels  on  bad  pavement. 
Again  the  great  wooden  door  flew  open  with 


The  Truce  207 


a  bang.  Entered  the  paymaster,  another 
agitated  official,  and  an  officer  in  pink  and 
white,  who  bowed  and  smiled  at  me  affec 
tionately. 

"You  are  released,  senor,"  said  the  officer. 

"Oh,  I  am !     And  this  gentleman  too  ?" 

"Impossible,  senor.  His  Excellency  is 
determined.  With  you,  seiior,  he  requests  a 
friendly  interview." 

"He  won't  get  it." 

"His  Excellency  is  in  a  carriage  at  the 
door." 

It  was  not  fifty  feet  to  the  open  door. 
His  Excellency  seemed  to  have  lost  flesh 
with  the  excitement  and  anguish  of  his 
mind. 

"Oo-aa !"  came  over  from  the  Plaza,  that 
indescribable  roar. 

"Oh,  senor!"  he  cried  with  enthusiasm. 
"It  is  the  will  of  the  people  that  we  be  recon 
ciled.  Enough.  We  are  reconciled." 

"Not  yet,  Mayor.  My  red-haired  friend 
here " 


208  The  Truce 


"Impossible!" 

"Not  a  light,  then.  Bury  it  all,  Mayor. 
The  wisest  plan." 

"But  the  proclamations!  Abominable, 
public,  infamous!" 

"Oh,  quite  wrong,  of  course." 

"You  admit  it!" 

"He  must  be  pardoned." 

"To-morrow." 

"Now!" 

"Oo-aa!"  from  the  Plaza,  that  hair-rais 
ing  yell. 

The  Mayor  shivered.  Then  he  gathered 
up  his  dignity  with  the  gracefulness  of  a 
lady  picking  up  her  skirts,  and  finished  the 
game  like  a  fallen  but  romantic  potentate. 

"Enough,"  he  said.     "I  yield." 

We  drove  to  the  Plaza,  Jimmie  Hagan  on 
the  carriage-springs  behind,  the  Mayor  and 
I  standing  on  the  seat  and  holding  hands  for 
the  public  to  see  the  unlimited  affection  we 
had;  the  paymaster  and  the  officer  in  pink 
and  white  on  the  seat  facing,  waving  their 


The  Truce  209 


hats  with  unnatural  joy,  and  the  other  of 
ficial  on  the  seat  with  the  driver. 

But  what  a  sight  was  the  Plaza!  What 
a  howling  mass  of  faces,  open  mouths,  hands 
gesticulating,  all  fading  and  dimly  seen  at  a 
few  hundred  feet  from  the  carriage,  for  the 
night  was  falling  fast. 

"Excellency,"  I  said,  "you  owe  me  thirty 
thousand  dollars.  We'll  stop  at  the  bank." 

"Just  at  present,  sefior,  the  public's  bal 
ance  is  low,  but " 

"On  the  contrary — or  rather,  we'll  step  in 
and  see." 

"To-morrow,  sefior " 

"Excellency,"  I  said,  "I  don't  care  one  lit 
tle  bit  at  all  whether  it's  out  of  the  city's  de 
posit,  or  your  private  account,  or  whether 
there's  any  difference  between  them.  But 
there  won't  be  a  light  till  every  dollar  is 
paid.  Moreover,  this  mob  is  nervous. 
Moreover,  here's  the  bank." 

We  got  clown,  and  left  the  pink  and  white 
officer  in  the  carriage  with  the  two  other 


2 1  o  The  Truce 


officials.  The  Mayor  stalked  grimly  ahead 
of  me  into  the  bank,  and  the  thirty  thousand 
was  paid. 

I  made  the  plant  in  a  carriage  in  ten 
minutes.  Three  scared  furnace  tenders 
were  there,  in  charge  of  a  company  of  pink 
soldiers.  Among  them  they  had  two  dyna 
mos  more  or  less  mutilated  trying  to  switch 
them  on  with  a  pick-axe.  At  last  I  got 
tilings  running,  turned  on  the  main  switch, 
and  saw  the  nearby  streets  leap  into  bright 
ness. 

When  Hagan  and  I  came  back  through 
the  town  about  eight  o'clock,  the  band  was 
playing  in  the  Plaza,  the  people  rejoicing 
among  the  palm  trees,  which  were  done  up 
in  bunting,  and  the  Mayor  was  making  a 
speech  from  the  balcony  of  magistrates  to 
the  effect  that  Portate  was  a  centre  of  civili 
sation,  a  second  Paris. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  carrying 
thirty  thousand  dollars  in  my  pocket,  and 
wasn't  a  steel  vault.  The  lights  were  going 


The  Truce  2 1 1 


anyway  for  to-night,  and  maybe  some  public 
functionary's  private  bandit  might  be  look 
ing  for  me.  I  ought  to  have  deposited 
before  going  to  the  plant,  or  perhaps — 
but  there  was  the  Violetta,  which  would  be 
safer  still. 

We  dodged  the  Plaza,  and  went  down  to 
the  docks.  Not  a  boatman  was  about.  I  un 
tied  a  row  boat,  and  we  rowed  out,  looking 
for  the  Violetta.  It  was  easy  to  distinguish 
her,  clean  and  white,  glimmering  with  bright 
port-holes.  As  we  drew  near  we  could  see 
the  polished  brasses  shining  under  the  stars. 
The  cool  sea  wind  on  the  bay  and  the  soft 
lapping  of  waves  against  the  boat  were 
pleasant  to  feel  and  hear,  after  the  heat  and 
noise  of  Portate.  The  sight  of  the  Violetta, 
neat  and  compact,  made  me  homesick  for  the 
temperate  zone  and  my  own  people  of  the 
North,  gray-eyed  level-headed  people,  steady 
and  reasonable.  I  felt  like  a  carrier  pigeon 
come  home. 

"Violetta,  ahoy  I" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
©n  JBoarfc  tbc  \Diolctta 

CAPTAIN  JANSEN  met  us  at  the 
gangway.  There  were  some  changes 
in  the  look  of  the  Violettas  deck  since  last 
I  had  seen  it,  a  year  and  a  half  before,  in  the 
West  Indies.  The  awning  was  new.  Those 
geranium  pots  were  gone,  which  used  to 
stand  along  the  scuppers,  and  be  carried 
down  every  night  and  whenever  the  weather 
threatened.  The  world  had  been  too  much 
for  them.  The  same  doilies  were  on  the 
same  rocking  chairs.  There  was  the  brown 
mahogany  parlour  table.  But  among  ob 
jects  that  recalled  home  conventions,  some 
thing  that  breathed  eastward,  a  tropic  touch 
here  and  there,  had  been  admitted.  A  huge 
Burmese  tapestry  swung  from  one  side  of 
the  awning,  and  the  breeze  bayed  it  in,  its 
green  embroidered  serpents  writhing  lazily 


212 


On  Board  the  Violetta       2 1  3 

above  an  honest  but  uninspiring  sofa  from 
Grand  Rapids.  Yellow  Chinese  mats  fronr 
Singapore  were  on  the  deck  in  place  of  the 
former  flowered  carpet. 

Mrs.  Ulswater  sat  in  her  familiar  rocking 
chair,  small,  thin,  quiet,  and  slightly  precise; 
and  on  one  of  the  mats,  with  her  back 
against  Mrs.  Ulswater's  chair,  sat  a  girl  in  a 
white  dress,  with  dark  hair,  with  very  def 
inite  eyebrows  and  a  tilted,  provocative  nose. 
In  front  of  her,  on  another  mat,  sat  Chepa 
smoking  a  cigarette.  At  some  distance  off, 
a  motionless  figure  in  dingy  white  crouched 
in  the  shadow  of  the  cabin,  whom  I  took  to 
be  Ram  Nad  engaged  in  abstraction.  These 
were  the  occupants  of  the  after-deck. 

"Kit!"  cried  Mrs.  Ulswater,  dropping  her 
knitting.  Susannah  sprang  up  and  cried : 

"Did  we  beat  the  Mayor?" 

I  told  them  about  the  insurrection,  Jimmie 
Hagan's  arrest,  and  the  Mayor's  surrender, 
and  how  I  wanted  Dr.  Ulswater  to  take 
charge  of  The  Union  Electric's  cash. 


214       On  Board  the  Violetta 

"I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  for  your  insur 
rection,  Mrs.  Ulswater.  As  to  the  Mayor — 
well,  you've  been  around  the  world  yourself 
since  I  saw  you,  and  got  acquainted  with 
the  Gentile.  What  do  you  think  of 
him?" 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  the  Gentile?" 

"The  alien,  the  uncanny  human  who  isn't 
like  us.  His  'best  is  like  his  worst,'  isn't  it? 
in  our  eyes,  because  both  his  best  and  his 
worst  are  different  from  ours." 

"I  like  him  better  than  I  expected  to,"  she 
answered. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  on  rearranging 
him?" 

"I'm  not  so  sure  as  I  was  what  his  ar 
rangement  is." 

"But  the  cruise  of  the  Violetta  has  been  a 
success,  hasn't  it?" 

After  a  moment's  thought  she  said : 

"When  it  began,  I  didn't  know  what  I 
wanted,  but  I  thought  I  should  know  it  when 
I  saw  it.  And  that  was  the  way  it  turned 


On  Board  the  Violetta       2 1 5 

out.  I  found  out  what  it  was,  when  I  found 
it.  The  doctor  and  Susannah  are  most  of 
it." 

"It  wasn't  the  missions,  then?" 

"Not  exactly.  It's  partly  finding  things 
to  do,  and  doing  them  as  they  come  along." 
After  a  pause  she  said,  as  if  changing  the 
subject : 

"Do  you  think  you  can  get  on  with  the 
Mayor  here,  after  all  this?" 

"Why,  that's  the  question.  The  Mayor 
has  his  virtues,  but  he  doesn't  like  insurrec 
tions  or  paying  bills.  If  Providence  didn't 
afflict  him  with  one  or  the  other  of  those  now 
and  then,  he  might  be  a  philosopher;  but 
now  you  speak  of  it,  I  shouldn't  say  he  was  a 
good  loser.  It's  one  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  tropics,  to  carry  grudges  long  and 
far." 

Susannah  was  looking  at  me  gravely. 

"Do  you  make  poetry  ?"  she  asked. 

"Not  in  the  way  of  business,"  I  said,  still 
thinking  of  my  troubles.  "It's  Portate  that 


21 6       On  Board  the  Violetta 

introduces  poetry  into  business.  If  I  pro 
pose  to  the  Mayor  to  put  in  five  hundred  new 
lights,  he  proposes  a  procession.  If  I  tell 
him  I'm  going  to  repaint  some  of  the  trolley 
cars,  he  announces  it  that  night  to  the  popu 
lace  from  the  balcony  of  magistrates,  and 
the  populace  comes  and  asks  me  for  a  free 
ride,  and  The  Union  Electric's  employes 
claim  it's  a  holiday.  You  see,  Miss  Rom- 
ney " 

"Why,  I'm  Susannah?" 

"Oh !  Well,  Susannah— You  see,  Susan 
nah,  Portate  furnishes  all  the  poetry  The 
Union  Electric  Company  will  stand.  They 
can't  afford  to  let  me  decorate  the  situation 
too.  That's  why  I  have  some  doubts 
about  the  ultimatum  and  the  insurrection. 
They  were  rather  decorative,  weren't 
they?" 

"I'm  going  to  make  poetry  about  you," 
said  Susannah. 

She  got  up  and  walked  away  across  the 
deck,  in  the  manner  of  one  conducting 


On  Board  the  Violetta       217 

powerful  operations  with  the  muses.  She 
came  to  where  the  dingy  heap  of  eastern 
wisdom  sat  against  the  cabin  wall. 

"Ram  Nad!"  we  heard  her  say,  with  a 
stamp  of  the  foot,  "you  go  this  minute  and 
get  your  shawl !" 

He  rose  silently,  pale  and  venerable,  and 
went  down  the  companionway. 

"He  catches  cold  easily,"  Mrs.  Ulswater 
explained.  "I  told  him  not  to  sit  out  even 
ings  without  his  shawl." 

Chepa  and  Hagan  had  gone  forward 
sometime  before.  Susannah  paced  the  deck 
apart  with  folded  arms,  making  poetry  about 
me.  Mrs.  Ulswater  sat  in  her  rocking 
chair,  knitting,  listening,  talking. 

I  was  thinking  that  she  would  have  been  a 
dangerous  woman,  with  all  that  will  and 
reserve,  if  she  had  not  happened  to  be  honest 
and  kind.  She  could  not  help  but  foresee 
and  devise.  I  wondered  if  she  were  plot 
ting  and  planning  at  the  moment,  and  for 
whose  benefit.  Likely  it  was  for  mine.  I 


2i 8       On  Board  the  Violetta 

wondered  if  the  Mayor  were  plotting  and 
planning  for  my  distress  or  destruction  at 
the  same  moment.  Likely  he  was.  I  didn't 
much  care.  Mrs.  Ulswater  had  rearranged 
the  tropics  here  and  there,  but  they  had 
not  rearranged  her.  It  was  about  eleven 
o'clock.  Susannah  was  extraordinarily 
pretty.  As  the  subject  of  a  ballad  by  Susan 
nah,  of  a  plot  by  Mrs.  Ulswater,  and  another 
plot  by  the  Mayor,  supposing  all  these  things 
were  going  on,  I  seemed  to  be  in  the  centre 
of  things. 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  oarlocks 
startled  us.  We  rose  and  went  to  the  rail. 
A  boat  drew  near  on  the  dark  water.  On 
the  surface  of  the  water  the  lights  of  the 
distant  city  made  long  broken  reflections. 
The  boat  drew  up  at  the  foot  of  the  gang 
way,  and  Dr.  Ulswater  mounted,  followed 
by  a  large  powerful  man,  gray-haired,  with 
a  long  dangling  moustache  and  lean  throat, 
carrying  on  his  broad  shoulders  a  large  ob 
long  box.  Behind  them  came  up  one  of  the 


On  Board  the  Violetta       219 

boatman,    carrying    a    trunk.       Susannah 
cried : 

"What's  in  the  box?" 

And  I  said,  catching  sight  of  my  initials, 
"Where'd  you  get  my  trunk?" 

"Jansen,"  said  Dr.  TJlswater,  "get  up 
steam.  We  leave  as  soon  as  you're  ready." 

A  moment  later  we  were  seated  under  the 
awning;  Mrs.  Ulswater  in  her  rocking  chair 
knitting  and  nowise  excited;  Susannah,  her 
hands  clasped  about  her  knees,  back  against 
the  rocker,  eagerly  absorbing  all  things;  the 
doctor,  the  grizzled  Sadler  and  I,  each 
negotiating  one  of  the  doctor's  cigars. 
Chepa,  with  his  cigarette,  and  Hagan,  with 
his  black  clay  pipe  and  extravagant  hair, 
squatted  together  on  the  deck. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
•fcannab  Bthins 

"TT  TE  sought  you  at  your  house,  Kit," 
VV  said  Dr.  Ulswater;  "we  sought 
you  also  at  the  establishment  where  you 
generate  that  mystical  fluid  which  now 
travels  meekly,  invisibly,  its  slender  wires, 
and  now  spits  like  a  red-hot  cat.  You  elec 
trical  engineers  have  your  fingers  on  the 
pulse  of  the  universe.  I  admire  in  you  the 
representatives  of  the  age. 

"The  condition  of  affairs  in  Portate  was 
most  mixed  and  unclassified.  No  light  any 
where,  except  here  and  there  a  smoky  lan 
tern,  and  such  sulphurous  beams  as  the  eye 
of  imagination  might  detect,  or  conceive, 
gleaming  from  the  bosoms  of  some  thou 
sands  of  furious  citizens.  We  reached  the 
railway  station  with  the  feeling  of  having 
been  miraculously  rescued.  The  town,  how- 

220 


Hannah  Atkins  221 

ever,  was  quieting  down.  Most  of  the 
citizens  had  gone  home  to  plot  your  assas 
sination.  Your  ultimatum  seemed  to  be 
everywhere  known.  Evidently  you  were  not 
meaning  to  be  found  that  night  by  friend  or 
foe,  and  therefore  Sadler  and  I  went  our 
way  in  the  interests  of  archaeology. 

"There  is  a  national  museum  at  the  capital 
of  this  country,  which  contains  an  extraor 
dinary  collection  of  Inca  relics,  but  is  as  dis 
orderly  as  Portate  emotions.  Thither  we 
went  by  the  slowest  train  the  ingenuity  of 
man  ever  invented,  getting  what  sleep  we 
could,  through  the  night,  upon  car  seats  of 
mistaken  construction,  each  one  of  which 
was  a  populous  commonwealth  of  bugs. 

"Arrived  at  our  destination  in  the  morn 
ing,  I  found  my  way  to  the  Museum,  and 
presently  was  buried  from  the  world,  lost  to 
the  present.  It  must  have  been  near  noon 
when  Sadler  came  and  found  me  surrounded 
by  pottery,  weapons,  tools,  and  the  swathed 
bundles  of  the  mummied  dead. 


222  Hannah  Atkins 

"'Doctor,'  he  said;  'when's  your  birth 
day?' 

"I  reflected. 

"  'Bless  my  soul,  it's  to-morrow !  This 
thing's  got  to  stop!  I'll  be  older  than  an 
Inca!' 

"  'You're  a  swaddled  infant,'  he  said.  'I 
thought  Mrs.  Ulswater  said  it  was  to-mor 
row.  I've  got  a  present  for  you.' 

"Birthdays,  indeed!  What  had  I  to  do 
with  birthdays,  who  was  reborn  into  eternity 
on  the  day  I  married  Mrs.  Ulswater !  I  had 
no  use  for  them.  I  wished  some  one  would 
make  me  a  present  of  the  treasures  of  that 
mixed-up  and  ruinous  museum,  and  rescue 
them  for  archaeology.  Carvings!  Do  you 
happen  to  know  that  the  Inca  signs  of  the 
Zodiac  are  practically  identical  with  the 
Egyptian,  that,  moreover,  they  probably 
antedate  them,  that " 

"No,  we  don't,"  interrupted  Sadler.  "It 
ain't  so." 

"I    can    prove     it    to    any    man    with 


Hannah  Atkins  223 

eyes,"  shouted  Dr.  Ulswater,  thumping  his 
knee. 

"Which  I  holds  myself,"  said  Sadler, 
gloomily,  "that  any  man,  with  eyes,  can  see 
as  them  signs  of  the  Zodiac  all  comes  from 
the  jim-jams,  and  the  first  man  that  made 
'em  was  the  first  man  that  had  drunk  not 
wisely  but  too  often." 

"Ha!"  said  Dr.  Ulswater.  "Why!  Now, 
that's  an  idea!  It  really  is!" 

"Fiddlesticks !"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
"What  was  the  present,  and  what  about 
it?" 

Susannah  said,  "What's  in  the  box?" 
and  I, 

"What  are  you  doing  with  my  trunk?" 

Dr.  Ulswater  wanted  to  stop  there  and 
discuss  the  origins  of  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac, 
and  the  orderly  narrative  was  getting  into  a 
bad  condition,  but  Sadler  took  it  up. 

"Well,  it  was  this  way,  ma'am,"  he  said. 
"I  left  the  doctor  at  the  Museum.  Them 
mummies  didn't  look  to  me  respectable,  but 


224  Hannah  Atkins 

maybe  they  are,  only  as  you  told  me  to  look 
after  the  doctor,  I  didn't  know  as  I'd  ought 
to  leave  him  in  that  there  dissipated  society. 
But  I  went  off  down  the  street,  and  by  and 
by  I  see  a  man  I  knew,  named  Sanchez 
Beteta.  He  used  to  be  a  graceless  young 
one,  son  of  a  poverty-stricken  caballero  who 
lived  on  Valencia  Street  in  Portate.  Beteta 
was  walking  stately  and  soft,  and  he  had  on 
patent-leather  shoes  that  was  pointed  like 
pins,  and  he  had  a  cane  that  was  an  airy 
vision,  and  a  buttonhole  bouquet,  and  fix 
ings,  and  side  whiskers,  and  clothes  that 
was  beautiful  to  make  a  bad  egg  remember 
its  young  dreams,  and  he  come  along  like  his 
garments  was  angels'  wings.  I  says  to  my 
self:  'I  want  to  be  like  that';  and  I  pokes 
him  in  the  chest  sudden  and  solid,  and  I  says, 
sort  of  ingratiating: 

"  'Where'd  you  steal  them  clothes?'  I 
says  in  West  Coast  Spanish.  He  looked 
me  over  with  a  haughty  eye.  Then  he 
says: 


Hannah  Atkins  225 

"  'If  you're  a  ghost,'  he  says,  'I  wished 
you'd  fade  away.  How  and  why  do  you 
exist,  aged  one  ?'  and  I  says : 

"  'Get  me  a  bouquet  and  a  cane.  I  want 
some  vanity.' 

"Then  we  went  and  got  them  vanities,  and 
paraded  in  glory  on  the  fashionable  highway 
that's  called  The  Pasep,'  and  he  told  me 
the  origin  of  his  clothes.  They  came  from 
his  being  in  the  Government,  a  sort  of  Sub- 
commissioner  of  National  Monuments  and 
Memorials,  and  from  that  position's  having 
some  pickings  of  drumsticks  while  his  su 
periors  \vas  busy  with  other  parts  of  the 
chicken.  I  told  him  how  I'd  come  there, 
and  how  electricity  had  played  it  dark  on 
Portate,  and  how  Dr.  Ulswater  was  at  the 
Museum  sorting  out  knowledge  and  wishing 
he  had  an  Inca  mummy  for  home  consump 
tion.  Beteta  knew  about  Portate.  It  was 
in  the  morning  paper  that's  called  'El 
Patria.'  Then  he  took  to  thinking. 

"  'Would  the  learned  senor,'  he  says,  'pay 


226  Hannah  Atkins 

a  price  for  a  royal  mummy?  He  is,  you 
say,  of  great  wealth.' 

"I  says:  'Why?' 

"  'Because,'  he  says,  'I  may  have  such  an 
article  to  dispose  of.' 

"  'Which,'  I  says,  'is  a  fraud.  It's  made 
of  mashed  paper  and  it  ain't  got  no  pedi 
gree.' 

"  'Not  at  all,'  he  says,  'not  at  all !  I  scorn 
you.  Could  I,  who  am  but  an  amateur,  de 
ceive  one  learned  as  your  friend?  It  was 
in  this  way,  simply.  Some  years  ago  an 
ancient  tomb  was  opened  and  found  to  con 
tain  mummies  of  the  family  of  the  Inca, 
Huayna  Capac.  Of  him  you  know  nothing 
at  all,  but  your  friend  does,  and  without 
doubt  he  knows  that  most  of  that  family 
died  during,  or  after,  the  Conquest.  With 
out  doubt  he  knows  of  the  tomb  I  speak  of 
and  its  discovery.  It  was  described  in  the 
publications  of  science.  Now  the  Museum 
is  in  my  Department  of  Monuments  and  Me 
morials,  and  somewhat  under  my  charge, 


Hannah  Atkins  227 

because  of  my  great  interest  in  my  country's 
antiquities.  Also  because  of  this  interest  I 
was  allowed  to  acquire  one  of  these  relics 
for  my  private  collection.  But  alas !  I  am 
unfortunate!  Integrity  and  poverty  go  to 
gether.  It  rends  my  heart.  I  fear  I  had 
better  dispose  of  my  treasure.  You  will 
ask,  "Why  not  to  the  Museum?"  Again, 
alas!  Evil  tongues  would  whisper.  I,  an 
official  of  the  Department,  sell  to  the  Depart 
ment!  My  own  conscience,  too  delicate, 
would  shrink.  But  you  are  hardened,  of  an 
evil  mind,  a  cynic.  You  don't  understand 
the  scruples.' 

"  'Sure,'  I  says,  'I  do.  Remorse  and  me 
are  bosom  friends.  Come  see  the  doctor.' 

"  'At  present,'  he  says,  kl  have  an  impor 
tant  engagement.  Bring  him  to  my  house 
at  three  this  afternoon.  Number  20,  Street 
of  the  Museum/ 

"I  went  after  the  doctor  then,  and  asked 
him  would  he  have  a  birthday  present,  and 
what  was  the  market  price  of  royal  mum- 


228  Hannah  Atkins 

mies  of  the  family  of  Hannah  Atkins. 
'Who  ?'  says  he,  and  I  tried  it  again.  'Oh !' 
he  says,  'Huayna  Capac !' 

"  The  same,'  I  says.  He  stated  a  likely 
price,  which  stumped  me  some,  for  Beteta 
had  only  asked  about  a  third  of  that  for  his 
mummy,  and  I  didn't  see  Beteta's  game.  I 
judged  he  must  be  an  ignorant  amateur  on 
mummies. 

"We  went  to  lunch,  and  about  three 
o'clock  we  come  round  to  Beteta's  house.  It 
stood  side  up  to  the  side  of  the  Museum, 
with  a  little  paved  court,  or  patio,  between. 
You  had  to  go  into  the  patio  to  get  into 
Beteta's  house,  and  there  was  a  small  door 
in  the  Museum  that  opened  on  the  patio  too. 
Beteta  let  us  in  and  showed  his  mummy  in  a 
box  on  a  table,  and  it  was  that  roped  and 
done  up  in  coloured  cloth  you  could  tell  it 
from  any  sort  of  bundle,  only  there  was  a 
copper  placard  on  it,  which  appeared  to  be 
antique. 

"  'It  has  been  in  the  Museum  for  some 


Hannah  Atkins  229 

days  past,'  says  Beteta,  'because  of  com 
parisons  I  desired  to  make  with  the  other 
plates/ 

"  'Ah !'  says  the  doctor. 

"  'I  regret  that  an  important  engagement 
now  hurries  me/  says  Beteta.  'My  house  is 
yours,  but  if  you  go  back  to  Portate  to-day, 
the  train  leaves  in  two  hours/ 

"  'Oh!'  says  the  doctor.  To  be  sure,  we 
must  go  back/ 

"'So  regrettable!  But,  without  doubt/ 
says  Beteta,  'you  will  return.  My  house  is 
yours.  For  me,  but  an  amateur,  to  make  ac 
quaintance  of  a  learned  archaeologist,  how 
grateful !  You  find  here  materials  for  pack 
ing.  My  house  is  yours.  Adios,  sefiores. 
The  public  servant  is  not  master  of  his  time. 
Adios,  sefiores.  My  house  is  yours/ 

"Then  he  took  his  cash  and  left  us,  we 
feeling  sort  of  surprised. 

"  'What's  your  expert  opinion?'  says  I. 
"  'Why/  says  the  doctor,  putting  on  his 
glasses  again  and  looking  wise,  'I  think  you 


230  Hannah  Atkins 

and  your  intimate  friend  belong  to  the 
genus  gammon,  species  humbug;  but  his 
mummy  is  all  right.' 

"  'If  it's  a  sure  Hannah  Atkins,  that's 
what  I'm  asking,'  I  says.  'I  guess  Beteta 
ain't  even  an  amateur  on  mummies,  and  he's 
skeered  of  conversation  with  you.  I  guess 
you're  right  there.' 

"We  packed  Hannah  Atkins,  and  toward 
five  o'clock  I  shouldered  the  box.  Some 
populace  saw  us  come  from  the  patio  and 
follower]  us  to  the  station,  wondering  what  a 
caballero,  with  a  cane  and  a  buttonhole  bou 
quet,  and  a  box  four  foot  long  on  his  shoul 
der,  and  a  amiable  large  party  in  a  white  vest 
behind  him,  was  doing  with  that  there  com 
bination  of  circumstances.  So  we  caught 
the  train  and  started  for  Portate.  There 
was  another  man  I  used  to  know  on  the 
train.  He  was  a  Scotch  engineer  in  the  em 
ploy  of  The  Transport  Company  and  named 
Jamison." 


CHAPTER    XXIX 
flbr*  Samfson 

SADLER  paused.     I  knew  Jamison  too. 
"What  was  Jamison  coming  to  Por- 
tate  for?"  I  asked.     "Did  he  say?" 

"He  did,"  said  Sadler.  "His  conversa 
tion  was  meaty.  I'm  makin'  a  dramatic 
pause." 

Then  he  paused  some  more. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  that  birthday  pres 
ent!"  said  Susannah,  scornfully. 

"Then  I'll  expand  your  imagination, 
Susannah,"  said  Dr.  Ulswater.  "Huayna 
Capac  was  the  great  Inca  who  died  in  1527, 
the  year  Pizarro  landed.  Three  of  his  sons 
contended  for  the  throne,  Huascar,  Ata- 
hualpa  and  Manco,  but  how  many  other 
children  he  left  is  nowhere  stated,  to  my 
knowledge.  The  marital  system  of  the 
royal  house,  however,  being  such  as  it  was,  it 
231 


232  Mr.  Jamison 

is  probable  they  were  numerous.  The  mum 
mies  discovered  some  four  years  ago  were  five 
in  number,  each  with  a  copper  plate  sewn  to 
the  cerements,  and  inscribed,  ostensibly  by 
one  Padre  Geronimo  Valdez.  Each  of  the  in 
scriptions  states  that  the  enclosed  person  was 
a  daughter  of  Huayna  Capac,  who  had  been 
baptised  and  buried  by  himself,  Padre  Gero 
nimo.  The  date  given  on  this  plate  is  1543. 
We  have  yonder  then,  in  all  probability,  all 
that  remains  of  a  daughter  of  the  Incas." 

"It  isn't  expanded  at  all,"  said  Susannah, 
meaning  her  imagination. 

"What  was  her  name?"  asked  Mrs.  Uls- 
water. 

"Curiously,"  said  Dr.  Ulswater,  "the  in 
scription  doesn't  state." 

"Her  name's  Hannah  Atkins,"  said 
Sadler. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
"What  happened  next?" 

Dr.  Ulswater  continued  the  narrative. 

"Mr.  Jamison  was  a  Scotch  person,  with 


Mr.  Jamison  233 

dusty  eyebrows  and  considerate  eyes,  his 
speech  compact  of  caution  and  a  burr. 
Sadler  told  him  of  our  acquisition  and  in 
quired  about  the  man  Beteta. 

"  'Because/  I  added,  'if  the  gentleman  is 
no  amateur  of  mummies,  why  should  he 
have  a  mummy  in  his  possession?  And  if 
he  hadn't  any, — if,  in  fact,  he  stole  it  from 
the  Museum, — why  should  he  risk  so  much 
for  the  no  great  sum  the  mummy  is  worth, 
in  fact,  for  the  yet  smaller  sum  which  he  re 
ceived?  It  seems  more  probable  that  in 
some  way  it  must  have  been  his.' 

"  'I  hae  doots  of  it,'  said  Jamison,  drily. 

'  'Does  he  know  anything  of  archaeol 
ogy  ?' 

"  'I  hae  doots  of  it/ 

" 'Did  he  steal  it,  then?' 

'  'I  hae  doots  it  was  something  resem 
bling  that,  though  maybe  no  precisely.' 

'  'For  that  absurdly  small  compensation  ?' 

"  'I  hae  doots  about  the  size  of  it/ 

" 'What  for,  then  ?J 


234  Mr.  Jamison 

"  'I  hae  doots  ye'll  find  some  pink  military 
at  Portate  that'll  maybe  explain/ 

"Sadler  here  burst  into  spacious  laughter. 

"  'We're  speeding  to  our  doom,  doctor/ 
he  said.     'Ho,  ho!' 

"  'I  hae  doots,  said  Jamison,  'he  may  have 
it,'  said  Jamison. 

"'But,'    I    said,    'that    doesn't    explain 
Beteta/ 

"'I  hae  doots/  said  Jamison,  'he  may  have 
an  understanding  with  his  Department.' 

"  'Why,'  I  said,  'you  grow  in  mystery, 
Mr.  Jamison.  You  cover  the  land  with 
darkness.  If  the  sum  he  received  was  too 
small  to  explain  him  by  himself,  it  is  surely 
too  small  to  explain  an  arrangement  imply 
ing  a  distribution.  Ha !'  I  exclaimed.  'Let 
me  consider/ 

"  'Right  you  are,  doctor/  said  Sadler. 
'You  have  the  idea  now.  He  wan't  any 
where  round  when  we  left/ 

"Certainly,  on  consideration  it  seemed  to 
me  that  if  we  were  accused  of  ourselves  ex- 


Mr.  Jamison  235 

tracting  her  whom  Sadler  insists  on  call 
ing  Hannah  Atkins — feloniously  from  the 
Museum,  we  would  have  some  difficulty  in 
proving  the  culprit  to  have  been  Beteta. 

"  'Beteta/  said  Jamison,  slowly,  after  a 
pause,  'has  some  sma'  penetration.  With 
out  knowing  much  about  archaeology,  he 
might  consider  that  a  gentleman  with  a 
steam  yacht  is  maybe  a  man  of  some  sub 
stance,  that  might  pay  a  bit  more  for  im 
munity  than  for  a  mummy.  For  the  in 
terests  of  the  Museum,  he  might  consider  it 
proper  to  attract  a  strategic  contribution 
from  a  foreigner.  I  hae  doots  the  appro 
priations  for  the  Department  of  Public 
Monuments  and  Memorials  don't  support  its 
offeecials  to  their  satisfaction.  He  might 
arrange  the  circumstances  so  that  the  cir 
cumstances  would  be  suffeecient.  He  might 
so  put  it  to  persons  who  might  be  suffee- 
ciently  authoritative  to  make  it  suffeeciently 
safe.  They  might  send  an  authoritative 
despatch  to  the  Mayor  of  Portate.  I  have  a 


236  Mr.  Jamison 

bit  of  information  the  facts  are  no  so  far 
from  that  supposition.  No  that  I'd  care  to 
be  an  authority  for  the  statement/ 

"  'He's  an  infernal  scoundrel !'  I  ex 
claimed. 

"  'It  may  be  so/  said  Jamison,  'but  he  has 
some  sma'  penetration.  It's  my  recollection 
too  that  our  friend  Sadler  was  in  no  verra 
good  odour  with  the  authorities  when  he 
left  some  years  ago.  Folk  said  he  ran  away 
a  wee  bit  surrepteetiously,  or  maybe  he'd 
deny  that.' 

" Sadler  again  roared  with  laughter. 

"  'I  hae  doots  Beteta  has  the  penetration 
to  remember  that  too,'  said  Jamison. 

"  'However,'  I  said.  'Kirby  will  see  us 
through. 

"  'Aye!  Kirby?     Is  he  a  friend  of  yours?' 

"I  told  him  of  my  old  friendship  with  Kit. 

"  'Oo!  Is  it  so?  But  I  hae  doots  Kirby 
has  troubles  of  his  own.  I  hae  doots  it 
would  be  better  to  keep  the  two  troubles 
apart.' 


Mr.  Jamison  237 

"Here  Sadler  got  up  suddenly  from  his 
seat,  asking  of  Jamison  : 

"  'Say,  does  Steve  Dorcas  live  where  he 
used  to?' 

"  'Aye,'  said  Jamison.     'He  does/ 

"  'Well/  said  Sadler,  'it's  this  way,  doctor. 
Seeing  I  got  you  into  it,  I  guess  it's  mine  to 
get  you  out,'  and  he  left  the  car.  I  asked 
who  was  Dorcas. 

"  'Oo — he's  superintendent  of  The  Trans 
port  Company/  said  Jamison,  'but  I  doot  if 
Sadler  will  be  able  to  find  him  the  night. 
His  house  is  outside  of  Portate  a  bit.  We 
pass  it  on  the  railroad/ 

"He  paused  and  looked  thoughtfully 
through  the  window.  The  night  was  fall 
ing.  A  desolate  country  indeed,  a  sandy 
and  rocky  desert,  is  this  coastland,  for  the 
most  part.  I  was  reflecting  that,  if  Sadler 
had  a  plan,  I  might  as  well  take  what  com 
fort  was  passing,  whatever  meat  of  con 
versation  on  several  subjects  this  shrewd 
Scotchman  might  afford.  I  started  on  the 


238  Mr.  Jamison 

subject  of  South-American  archaeology,  but 
Jamison  did  not  respond.  His  mind  seemed 
to  be  elsewhere.  At  last  he  said : 

"  'Ye'll  maybe  make  a  reasonable  compro 
mise,  if  Dorcas  is  with  you,  and  I  hae  no 
great  doots  but  he  will  be,  for  he  was 
friendly  with  Sadler  once.  And  leaving 
that,  I'll  no  deny  I'm  going  down  to  Portate 
myself  on  a  soommons  from  Dorcas,  but  it's 
no  aboot  you  and  your  mummy.  It's  to 
take  charge  of  The  Union  Electric's  plant. 
Whereby,  as  you're  a  man,  I  see,  of  no  sma' 
penetration  yourself,  doctor,  ye'll  be  seeing 
it's  likely  Kirby's  no  expected  to  be  in  a 
poseetion  to  run  the  plant  to-morrow  night.' 

"  'It  seems  to  follow,  Mr.  Jamison/  I  said, 
'that  the  Mayor  means  to  arrest  him  to 
morrow.' 

"He  nodded. 

"  'I  hae  some  information  he  did  so  this 
morning,  but  I  opine  the  Mayor  will  be  let 
ting  him  out  this  night  to  run  the  plant,  or 
Portate  will  be  dark  again.' 


Mr.  Jamison  239 

"  'On  account/  I  questioned,  'of  there 
being  no  train  that  would  get  you  to  Por- 
tate  before  ten  ?' 

"  'Your  penetration  is  no  sma'  matter, 
doctor/  he  said.  'It's  working  well/ 

"  'It's  a  wild  thing,  Mr.  Jamison/  I  con 
tinued,  after  some  thought,  'a  frivolous  in 
telligence,  a  restless  and  turbulent  member. 
Its  mad  quest  after  information  is  always 
making  me  trouble.  It  wants  to  know  now 
how  you  and  the  Superintendent  of  The 
Transport  Company  happen  to  be  so  willing, 
not  to  say  eager,  to  get  into  collusion  with 
these  corrupt  and  debt-dodging  municipal 
thieves  in  Portate,  and  thereby  to  spoil 
Kirby's  most  enlivening  and  pleasant  strata 
gem  for  collecting  a  just  debt.  It  wants  to 
know  whether  Kirby's  being  in  jail  is  any 
personal  gratification  to  either  of  you  gentle 
men/ 

"He  broke  into  a  dry  but  not  unkindly 
laugh. 

"  'No  personal,  doctor.     Kirby  is  a  good 


240  Mr.  Jamison 

man.  Oo — a  wee  bit  hasty  and  cocksure, 
but  he's  only  a  lad.  But  your  penetration  is 
doing  well.  I'm  thinking  it  might  better  go 
on.' 

"  'On  your  suggestion,  it  will,'  I  assented. 
The  Transport  Company  and  The  Union 
Electric  are  rivals  presumably.  Presumably, 
then,  the  former  has  no  objection  to  winning 
favour  with  the  authorities  at  the  expense  of 
the  latter.  Waiving  the  question  of  fair 
ness  or  morality ' 

"  'Aye,  better  waive  'em,'  said  Jamison, 
drily. 

"  'Waiving  them  entirely,'  I  said,  The 
Transport  Company  seems  to  be  in  line  with 
prosperity  at  the  present  moment.' 

"Here  Sadler  came  back  in  the  car. 

"  'Engineers  and  conductors  are  easy  on 
this  road,'  he  said.  'One  dollar  apiece. 
We'll  pull  up  where  the  road  crosses  to  Dor 
cas'  place,  and  disappoint  that  there  pink 
military.' 

"  'Verra    good,'    said   Jamison,    nodding 


Mr.  Jamison  241 

kindly.  Til  go  with  ye,  and  I'm  thinking 
we'll  be  there  in  a  few  moments  now/ 

"Presently  the  train  slowed  down  and 
stopped.  Sadler  shouldered  Hannah  At 
kins,  and  we  got  out.  The  train  went  on  its 
way.  The  glimmer  of  the  not  distant  city 
showed  that  the  electric  plant  was  working. 
To  the  left  some  distance  stood  a  large  house 
among  trees,  and  to  it  a  road  ran  from  the 
railway  crossing.  It  stood  near  the  bank  of 
the  river,  a  yellow,  stuccoed  house  with  a 
patio.  A  man  who  met  us  at  the  door  ex 
claimed  : 

"  What,  Jamison !  What,  what !  Why, 
why!  Sadler!  Come  in,  come  in.  What's 
that  box?  How  d'ye  do?  Have  a  cigar! 
Have  a  drink.  Good  Lord!' 

"He  was  introduced  to  me  as  'Steve  Dor- 


CHAPTER  XXX 
flfcr.  Dorcas 

"TTE  was  a  short,  thickset  man  with  a 
A  JL  stubby  chin  whisker,  an  incessant 
energy,  and  an  amazingly  choppy  manner  of 
speech. 

"'Just  so;  just  so/  he  said  when  he 
had  heard  our  circumstances  and  needs. 
'Drive  you  around  myself.  Do  it  my 
self.' 

"Shortly  thereafter  he  was  driving  us  with 
two  small  ferocious  horses  through  the  star 
lit  night,  over  tumultuous  roads,  circling  the 
city,  in  order  that — without  passing  through 
it,  or  meeting  its  expectant  pink  militia  or 
gend'armerie — we  might  get  to  some  point 
on  the  bay  where  a  boat  could  be  obtained  to 
the  Violetta. 

"  1  see,  I  see,'  he  said.  'You'll  have  to 
get  away.  Get  away.  Before  daybreak. 
242 


Mr.  Dorcas  243 

Beteta.  Know  him  well.  Damn  rascal. 
Right,  Jamison!  Right.  Clever  old  boy, 
Jamison.  Old  boy.  I  was  up  City  Hall. 
City  Hall.  Five  o'clock.  Saw  Mayor. 
Saw  despatch.  No  names  though.  Said 
Museum  was  robbed.  Description.  No 
names.  How  should  I  know?  Too  early, 
though.  Beteta  ought  to  have  waited. 
Seven  o'clock.  Time  enough.  Damn  fool. 
Make  no  great  difference.  Maybe  not. 
Humph!  Good  enough  case.  Got  you 
short.  Eh?  Few  thousands.  Blackmail. 
Wouldn't  do.  Eh?  Keep  the  mummy? 
Lord,  yes.  Your  game.  Whoa!  Here's 
Kirby's  house.  See  if  he's  here.' 

"Singular  conversationalist,  Mr.  Dorcas. 
His  discourse  resembled  the  precipitous  flow 
and  fall  of  successive  bricks.  He  pulled  up 
before  that  house  of  the  picket  fence,  visited 
by  Sadler  and  myself  the  night  before.  But 
all  was  dark,  not  a  window  lit,  no  one 
within. 

"We  could  see,  however,  the  low  build- 


244  Mr.  Dorcas 

ings.,  tall  stacks,  and  shining  windows  of  the 
electric  plant  some  distance  away.  Jamison 
departed  for  the  plant,  saying  he  would  tell 
Kirby  we  were  there,  if  Kirby  were  at  the 
plant.  Dorcas  fastened  his  horses  to  the 
picket  fence.  We  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
porch  and  held  council. 

"  'Kirby  in  bad  hole/  said  Dorcas. 
'Mayor  crazy.  No  lights.  Snuffed  out  the 
city.  Cool,  but  risky.  These  boys,  Lord! 
What  nerve  they  have !  Don'  know.  Might 
have  worked,  maybe.  But  that  riot.  Bad. 
Irish.  Jimmie  Hagan.  Red  hair.  Pro 
clamations.  Hot.  Printed  too.  Hagan 
had  'em.  Mayor's  tenderest  corns  stepped 
on.  Insurrection.  Sedition.  Mob.  File  of 
soldiers.  Dead  wall.  Bang!  Dead  Irish. 
Next,  Kirby  took  the  riot.  Clubbed  the 
Mayor  with  it.  What !  Collusion  with  re 
bellion.  Humph!  Got  his  bill.  Yes.  But 
the  Mayor's  got  him.  Never  forgive. 
Never!' 

"  Irish !'    said    Sadler.      Troclamations 


Mr.  Dorcas  245 


nothing!     Irish  never  got  up  an  insurrec 
tion.' 

"  'Did  too,'  said  Dorcas,  diving  into 
his  coat.  'Here.  Got  a  copy.  See 
here !' 

"  'He  must  have  run  into  Chepa,'  said 
Sadler.  'Chepa  used  to  have  sand,  and  he's 
Kirby's  foreman,  now,  ain't  he?  We  heard 
so.  Him  and  Irish  used  to  be  with  each 
other  like  a  man  and  his  pug  dog,  and  each 
of  'em  thought  the  other  was  the  pug  dog. 
That's  a  proper  international  relation,  ain't 
it?  Wrath  of  God!'  says  Sadler.  'Look 
here!  Chepa  never  did  this  by  his  lone 
some.' 

"He  read  aloud  the  proclamation : 

"  'Citizens,  rise !  The  Mayor  tyrant  has 
arrested  the  electric  lights!  The  Mayor, 
betrayer  of  the  people,  has  put  in  jail  Kirby, 
friend  of  the  people !  The  Mayor  thief  has 
stolen  the  people's  taxes  to  buy  gilt  furni 
ture!  The  Mayor  pig  eats  the  people's 
taxes !  Therefore  is  he  fat  and  shaped  like 


246  Mr.  Dorcas 


an  egg  which  within  is  bad.  Kirby,  friend 
of  the  people,  is  desolate  because  he  cannot 
buy  more  electricity,  because  the  Mayor 
sneak  will  give  him  no  money  which  the 
people  gave  him!  Release  Kirby  or  Down 
with  the  Mayor !  Shall  Portate  be  darkened 
forever?  Citizens,  are  you  slaves?  Citi 
zens,  be  not  deceived !  Citizens,  rise !' 

"  'Chepa  nor  Irish  didn't  do  that !'  said 
Sadler. 

"  Teppery,  ain't  it !'  said  Dorcas.  'Red 
hot.  Who  did  it!  Don'  know.  Kirby, 
maybe.  Don'  know!  Done  for  himself 
now.  Sure.' 

"  'Mr.  Dorcas/  I  said,  'why  shouldn't 
Kirby  sail  with  us  to-night?' 

"  'Maybe  he  won't.  Likely  not.  Here's 
Jamison/ 

"Jamison  came  up  deliberately.  He  said 
there  were  some  men  tending  the  furnaces 
and  dynamos  who  thought  either  Kirby  or 
Chepa  would  be  back  before  midnight. 
Senor  Kirby  had  -said  he  was  going  to  visit 


Mr.  Dorcas  247 


a  foreign  vessel  in  the  harbour.  They  knew 
no  more. 

"Jamison  thought  he  would  go  back  to  the 
plant,  and  so  said  farewell. 

"  Why,  there!'  I  said;  'He's  on  the  Vio- 
letta  already.  But  undoubtedly  there  will 
arise  a  point  of  duty,  of  responsibility.  But 
you  are  a  responsible  man,  Mr.  Dorcas. 
You  may  be  playing  a  game  of  your  own, 
but  my  impression  is  it  will  be,  on  the  whole, 
a  decent  game.  I'm  willing  to  be  convinced 
it  is,  however  it  may  look  not  over  friendly. 
At  any  rate,  Kirby  knows  you,  if  I  do 
not.' 

"  'Knows  me !'  Dorcas  said.  'Knows  me ! 
You're  right.  Point's  this:  He's  done  for 
himself.  Persona  non  grata.  Poison  to 
the  Mayor.  Spoiled  the  Mayor's  face.  I'll 
see  to  property.  Cable  Union  Electric. 
Send  another  man.  Tell  'em  he  did  well. 
All  considered.  Overdid  it  some,  maybe. 
Bad  hole.  No  good  here  now.  Cats  and 
dogs.  Fines.  Thirty  thousand  up  the  spout 


248  Mr.  Dorcas 

again.  Damages.  Anything.  Queer  coun 
try.  Got  to  play  it,  you  know.  Same  as  a 
trout.  Better  clear  out.' 

"I  said,  'But  in  that  case  what  are  we 
doing  here?  He'll  want  to  come  here  to 
pack  up,  and  as  we  leave  before  daybreak, 
he'll  have  no  time  to  spare.' 

' 'Dorcas  shook  his  head. 

"  'Better  not.  Things  happening  now. 
City  Hall.  Pretty  likely.  Military  here 
most  any  time.  Despatches  to  Beteta.  De 
spatches  from  Beteta.  Gunboat  after  your 
boat.  Don't  know.  Point's  this :  Whose  a 
burglar?  I  am.  Pack  up  for  him.  Why 
not?' 

"Sadler  said,  'I  don't  know  Kirby,  but  I'll 
take  the  liberty  of  busting  his  window,  if 
that's  all.  Looks  to  me  as  if  one  had  been 
busted  here  already.' 

"He  put  his  hand  through  the  broken  win 
dow  pane  and  unfastened  the  window, 
and  we  entered,  leaving  Dorcas  with  his 
horses. 


Mr.  Dorcas 


249 


"Our  selections  from  your  apparel  and 
other  properties,  Kit,  I  trust  you'll  find  to 
have  been  judicious. 

"Dorcas  drove  us  to  the  north  side  of  the 
bay  and  routed  out  the  men  who  rowed  us 
here.  They  are,  I  believe,  employes  of  The 
Transport  Company.  Dorcas  refused  to 
come  with  us. 

"  'Better  not,'  he  said.  'Point's  this :  tell 
the  Mayor  I  haven't  seen  him.  No  col 
lusion.  Mayor's  friend.  You  tell  Kirby. 
Write  me  letter.  I'll  wait  here.  Send  it 
back.  Power  of  attorney.  Take  charge. 
Responsible.  I  say  so.  Tell  him.  Good 
bye,  gentlemen.  Glad  to've  known  you. 
Good-bye/ 

"Having  arrived  then,"  concluded  Dr. 
Ulswater,  "it  remains  to  inquire  if  we've 
done  well.  If  not,  the  boatmen  are  waiting, 

but  if  we  have "     Here  Dr.  Ulswater 

leaned  forward,  and  put  his  hand  on  my 
knee. 

"My  dear  boy,  I  believe  I  speak  for  Mrs. 


25° 


Mr.  Dorcas 


Ulswater  too.     We've  been  the  round  of  the 
world,  missing  you." 

As  I  thought  it  over,  it  seemed  to  me  plain 
that  Dorcas  was  right.  He  and  Jamison 
were  very  decent  sort  of  men.  If  Dorcas 
took  the  responsibility,  the  property  would 
be  safer  with  him  than  with  me,  supposing  I 
was  in  jail.  Could  I  serve  The  Union  Elec 
tric  better,  under  the  circumstances,  than  by 
running  away,  as  a  sort  of  scapegoat,  carry 
ing  off  The  Union  Electric's  ill-odour  with 
the  Mayor,  along  with  the  thirty  thousand? 
The  Company  ought  to  be  satisfied.  I  didn't 
like  running  away.  I  longed  for  another 
crack  at  the  Mayor.  I  looked  at  Mrs.  Uls 
water,  at  the  doctor,  at  Susannah. 

I  supposed  Dorcas  was  right  about  the  ul 
timatum  too,  if  the  doctor  had  reported  his 
jerky  hints  correctly.  He  had  lived  in  the 
country  almost  as  long  as  I  was  old,  and  was 
clever  and  wise.  I  had  felt  proud  of  that 
ultimatum.  It  was  new  and  bold  and 
spectacular.  But  Dorcas  had  put  his  finger 


Mr.  Dorcas  251 


on  the  flaw  in  it,  the  injury  to  the  Mayor's 
prestige,  by  which  nothing  was  gained  and 
much  was  lost.     He  might  have  pardoned 
being  held  up,  if  it  could  have  been  done  be 
hind  the  door,  though  I  didn't  see  how  it 
could  have  been  done.     He  might  even  have 
pardoned    the    ultimatum,    but    there    were 
Chepa's  proclamation,  whose  blasting  rhet 
oric    was    Susannah's — Susannah's    genius 
and  Chepa's  idiom — and  Mrs.  Ulswater's  in 
surrection  in  general,  and  my  taking  ad 
vantage  of  it — why,  Dorcas  was  right  there, 
at  least.     The  Mayor  had  a  whip-hand  now, 
for  the  Government  would  back  him  up  now 
with  a  case  for  international  argument.    The 
riot  was  bad  business.     It  looked  as  if  Mrs. 
Ulswater  were  not  so  infallible  as  the  doctor 
thought.      I    wasn't    altogether    a    success 
either.     The  Union  Electric  might  or  might 
not  think  me  all  right,  but  Dorcas  was  right, 
and  The  Transport  Company  had  won  a 
point  over  us  by  having  elderly  wisdom  to 
manage  its  affairs  in  Portate,  instead  of  a 


252 


Mr.  Dorcas 


young  one  whose  nerve  was  longer  than  his 
head.  Anyhow,  the  milk  was  spilt. 

"I'll  write  to  Dorcas,"  I  said,  getting  up. 
"I  seem  to  have  run  through  my  usefulness." 

While  I  was  writing  in  the  cabin  I  could 
hear  the  chain  and  wheel  where  the  crew  was 
hauling  in  anchor.  The  hands  of  the  cabin 
clock  pointed  to  one  o'clock. 

Had  Mrs.  Ulswater  contracted  a  habit  of 
conps-d'etat?  Certainly  her  riot  didn't  look 
like  workings  of  infallible  good  sense. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
Susannab— Bno  of  tbe  Dosage  of  tbe  Dioletta 

IF  Mrs.  Ulswater,  then,  had  planned  her 
riot  in  order  to  make  my  position   in 
Portate  untenable — as  a  sort  of  explosion  of 
blasting  powder  to  loosen  me  from  South 
America,    it  seemed   reckless.     It  was  not 
like  her  to  make  a  mess  of  a  man's  business 
in  order  to  please  only  a  notion  of  hers  to 
have  him  in  her  floating  asylum.     She  had 
had,  as  I  remembered  her,  a  curious  awe  of 
business.     It  was  implanted  in  her,  I  sup 
posed,  by  Mr.  Mink  of  Ohio.     One  would 
say  offhand,  of  course,  that  she  had  meant, 
by  these  incendiary  proclamations,  merely  to 
frighten  the  Mayor  into  releasing  me,  and 
had  not  seen  beyond  that.     Of  course,  that 
might  be  the  case. 

But  when  I  asked  her  just  what  was  the 
extent  of  her  plan,  she  seemed  reserved,  and 
253 


254          End  of  the  Voyage 

wanted  to  talk  of  settling  somewhere  in  the 
States  again.  She  thought  Portate  a  past 
issue.  She  wouldn't  say  whether  or  not  her 
conscience  was  clear  about  the  riot,  but  she 
didn't  seem  to  be  troubled.  She  was  figur 
ing  about  what  kind  of  place  would  interest 
Dr.  Ulswater  to  live  in. 

We  were  to  go  first  to  San  Francisco, 
where  the  doctor  meant  to  ship  Hannah  At 
kins  to  the  Eastern  museum  for  which  he 
collected.  She  asked  my  advice  about  a 
place  to  settle  in.  Doctor  Ulswater  was 
foud  of  unsettled  travelling  and  might  be 
hard  to  satisfy.  She  didn't  find  my  advice 
of  much  use.  I  judge  there  were  too  many 
rolling  waves  of  moonlit  imagination  in  it. 
Something  seemed  to  be  lacking,  but  she 
wouldn't  say  what  the  flaw  was.  I  suspected 
she  wasn't  precisely  stating  the  nature  of  her 
aim  and  purpose.  She  began  to  consult 
Sadler  instead  of  me,  and  I  took  to  running 
down  Hannah  Atkins  to  Dr.  Ulswater,  so  as 
to  induce  his  eloquence,  calling  her  obsolete 


End  of  the  Voyage          255 

and  stolid,  or  criticising  the  way  she'd  been 
laid  out  rather  hunched  up;  and  he  would 
pour  out  South-American  archaeology  till 
everybody  took  a  new  interest  in  life.  All 
you  had  to  do  to  start  him,  like  a  spring 
flood  in  a  thirsty  land,  was  to  begin  some 
thing  like  this : 

"Of  course,"  you'd  say,  "I'm  not  real  well 
acquainted  with  mummies,  and  I'll  take  your 
word  Hannah's  a  good  specimen  of  her  kind, 
only  I'd  call  her  laying  out  pretty  economic 
and  bunchy;  and  of  course  she's  not  in  it 
with  an  Egyptian  mummy  for  a  minute,  but 
we  won't  quarrel  about  that,  though  on  the 
outside  she's  pretty  much  like  a  bag  of  meal, 
and  when  opened  up,  the  difference  is  all  in 
favour  of  the  bag  of  meal;  but  that  isn't  the 
point "  and  so  on.  Give  him  an  open 
ing,  and  he'd  shed  knowledge  like  rain  off  a 
roof,  till  you  felt  glad  to  be  alive. 

Or  else  I  would  go  off  with  Susannah  and 
help  her  write  her  poem  on  me.  That  poetry 
was  so  candid  that  it  got  away  from  me.  It 


256          End  of  the  Voyage 

soared  off  on  the  wings  of  truth,  and  dealt 
too  much  with  pure  facts.  My  nose  not 
being  straight,  it  stated  the  fact,  not  brutally, 
but  simply.  Any  weakness  I  had,  and  there 
was  a  rhyme  for  it,  down  it  went,  and  if 
there  wasn't  a  rhyme,  she  just  planted  it  in 
the  beginning  of  the  line  instead  of  at  the 
end.  Technical  difficulties  never  balked  her 
of  that.  There  were  one  thousand,  two 
hundred  and  fourteen  lines  before  we  got  to 
California.  I  wouldn't  take  a  fortune  for 
that  poem.  It  was  more  than  a  photograph. 
It  fitted  me  like  the  skin  of  a  snake.  But 
that's  not  its  main  value. 

"  Kit  Kirby  was  an  engineer," 
it  began. 

"  So  handsome  and  so  debonair." 

"Handsome!"  I  said,  feeling  interested. 
Susannah  took  an  observation. 

"Some." 

"Then  you  oughtn't  to  say  'so'  when  you 
mean  'some.'  " 


End  of  the  Voyage          257 

She  scratched  out  and  wrote : 

"Some  handsome  in  respect  to  him." 
But  I  was  new  at  literary  criticism  or  I 
wouldn't  have  made  that  mistake.     It  went 

on: 

"  But  very  crooked  in  his  nose, 
And  very  vain  about  his  clothes  !  " 

I  objected : 

"Not     at     all,     Susannah!       Neat    and 
cleanly!" 

She  corrected : 

"And  neat  and  cleanly  in  his  clothes," 

which  shows  the  value  of  literary  criticism. 
Then  the  poem  went  through  with  the 
circumstances  of  the  Portate  Ultimatum,  the 
Hannah  Atkins  plot,  and  the  sequel  of  those 
complications. 

"  And  everything  was  in  a  muss, 
And  so  he  ran  away  with  us." 

Now,  from  that  point  on,  it  went  along 
something  like  a  diary.  It  recorded  daily 
incidents,  reflections,  comments,  the  shades 
and  modifications  of  Susannah's  opinion  of 


258          End  of  the  Voyage 

me.  It  was  minute,  microscopic,  and  de 
tailed.  It  went  into  unsuspected  corners, 
and  hauled  things  out,  and  delivered  judg 
ments  on  them.  If  the  book  of  the  Record 
ing  Angel  is  put  together  on  that  model,  it's 
surely  a  good  model.  Perhaps  the  first 
sight  of  the  record  and  analysis  will  make  a 
man  squirm.  But  I  wouldn't  ask  for  a  bet 
ter  Recording  Angel  than  Susannah,  or  a 
judge  on  the  whole  more  just.  But  that  is 
not  the  main  value  of  the  poem  to  me.  It 
began  to  strike  me  in  a  new  light  when  I 
discovered  that  Susannah  had  my  sins  on 
her  conscience. 

There  were  entries  like  these : 

"June  fifth. 

"  The  night  is  dark  as  it  can  be, 
The  rain  is  falling  on  the  sea, 
And  every  one  of  us  is  gay. 
Kit  was  very  good  all  day. 

"June  tenth. 
"  Georgiana  Tupper  died, 
I  cried  a  lot,  and  then  I  cried 
Because  Kit  did  not  care  a  fly, 
But  said  he  did,  and  told  a  lie," 


End  of  the  Voyage          259 

This  was  a  kind  of  light  to  stand  in,  not 
only  searching,  but  one  that  manufactures 
repentance  faster  than  a  man  can  dispose  of 
the  goods. 

Two  things  began  to  dawn  on  me:  first, 
that,  although,  as  the  subject  of  Susannah's 
poem  it  was  natural  I  should  be  all  around  in 
it,  on  the  other  hand,  looking  at  the  poem  as 
a  diary,  I  was  more  ubiquitous  than  seemed 
reasonable :  second,  that  the  diary  was  get 
ting  on  my  nerves.  In  fact,  passing  time 
was  becoming  a  sort  of  running  commentary 
on  Susannah.  It  dawned  upon  me  that 
Susannah  and  I  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
occupying  each  other's  horizons.  Then  said 
to  myself,  "I'm  in  for  it.  It's  the  way  the 
world  is  made."  This  was  toward  the  end 
of  June.  The  Violetta  was  in  sight  of  the 
California  coast,  and  the  blue  mountains  of 
the  Coast  Range  were  a  fringe  along  the 
eastern  skyline  by  day. 

One   night    I    sat   with    Sadler,    looking 
across  the  water  toward  where  our  native 


26  o  End  of  the  Voyage 

land  lay  in  the  darkness,  he  twankling  on  his 
banjo  and  I  thinking  of  the  condition  of 
being  a  running  commentary  with  an  oc 
cupied  horizon.  By  and  by  he  began  to 
mutter  and  grumble  into  a  sort  of  tune 
whose  joints  didn't  fit.  On  the  whole,  as  a 
tune,  it  was  an  offence  to  music,  and  didn't 
agree  with  my  idea  of  what  is  morally  right. 
But  it  surely  suited  him.  He  began  to  sing 
to  it,  and  the  words  didn't  suit  me  either. 

"  When  first  I  kissed  Susannah— 
The  facts  I  state  precise— 
The  forty  million  little  stars 
They  winked  their  little  eyes, 
They  seemed  to  say,  '  You  dassn't' — 
I  guessed  the  same  was  true, — 
They  seemed  to  say,  '  I  reckon  things 
Will  happen  if  you  do '  ; 
When  first  I  kissed  Susannah. 

41  When  first  I  kissed  Susannah, 
I  wondered  if  I  dared  ; 
I  see  some  little  stars  go  out, 
Implying  they  was  scared  ; 
I  see  a  porpoise  lift  his  head 
And  pop  his  eyes  and  drool  ; 
And  all  the  sea  lay  flat  and  prayed, 
'  Lord  help  this  poor  damn  fool ' ' 
When  first  I  kissed  Susannah. 


End  of  the  Voyage          261 

"  When  first  I  kissed  Susannah — 
The  facts  I  state  'em  free- 
She  never  done  a  single  thing 
To  knock  the  head  off  me. 
She  melted  like  a  snowflake, 
That's  crystal,  keen  and  white, 
That  turns  a  drop  of  water, 
That  glimmers  in  the  night, 
When  first  1  kissed  Susannah." 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"Of  course,"  I  said  at  last,  "I  might  be 
mistaken,  for  though  you're  some  stiff  maybe 
with  ancientness,  still  you've  got  weight  and 
experience,  and  accident  and  foreordination 
ought  to  be  allowed  for." 

"Sure  they  ought.  You're  right,  sonny. 
That  there's  a  good  balance  of  facts." 

"Allowing  for  all  that  then,  still  I'd  like  to 
remark  that  if  you  kiss  Susannah  again,  I'll 
knock  the  head  off  you  myself." 

Sadler  twankled  on  peacefully. 

"Is  them  sentiments  genuine?"  he  asked, 
"Which  I  wish  to  inquire  if  they're  the  off 
spring  of  wrath." 

'They  are!" 


262          End  of  the  Voyage 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it's  this  way.  Scrap 
ping  is  roses  and  raptures  to  me,  but  the 
facts  don't  allow  it.  The  facts  of  that  poem 
ain't  in  my  experience  but  yours,  which  is 
why  I'm  weeping  to  the  moon." 

"They're  not  in  mine  either." 

"They  ain't!     Well,  why  ain't  they?" 

Then  he  swore  in  a  slow,  plaintive  man 
ner. 

"They  ain't!  Well,  why  ain't  they? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

He  went  off  leaving  me  reflecting  about 
all  the  things  a  man  misses.  Then  I  thought 
about  the  way  things  are  linked  together, 
one  thing  happening  because  of  another. 

For  if  the  King  of  Lua  hadn't  roused 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  wrath  so  that  she  had  to 
carry  him  off,  she  wouldn't  have  carried  off 
Sadler  too;  and  if  Sadler  hadn't  been  a  poet, 
probably  Susannah  wouldn't  have  been 
either;  and  if  Susannah  hadn't  begun  a  poem 
on  me,  it  wouldn't  have  turned  into  a  semi- 
public  diary;  and  if  I  hadn't  seen  her  diary, 


End  of  the  Voyage          263 

and  seen  it  grow  from  day  to  day,  I  wouldn't 
have  got  into  that  tumultuous  condition. 
Susannah  saw  through  me,  as  if  I  were  a 
window  pane,  but  the  window,  through 
which  I  saw  into  Susannah's  secrecy,  was 
her  diary. 

At  last  I  got  up  and  went  down  into  the 
cabin.  Susannah  was  not  there,  but  the 
doctor  was  reading  to  Mrs.  Ulswater. 

"Mrs.  Ulswater,"  I  said,  "is  Susannah  too 
young  to  be  kissed;  that  is,  by  me ?" 

"Don't  you  mean  too  old?"  she  asked 
quietly,  without  looking  up. 

"No,  I  mean  too  young." 

Mrs.  Ulswater  was  silent  a  moment. 

"I  suppose  she  is.  But  not  too  young  for 
us  to  make  plans." 

"Did  you  have  a  plan,  Mrs.  Ulswater?" 
I  asked  after  a  while. 

"You  needn't  pretend  you  didn't  know 
what  it  was." 

"I  suspected  it  when  it  began  to  suc 
ceed." 


264          End  of  the  Voyage 

Dr.  Ulswater  took  off  his  glasses  and 
pointed  them  vaguely  at  me. 

"As  to  the  date  of  your  suspicions,"  he 
said,  "you  are  an  authority,  but  as  to  the 
date  of  the  success  of  Mrs.  Ulswater's  plan, 
you  are  in  error,  in  error.  Mrs.  Ulswater's 
plans  begin  to  succeed  when  she  begins  to 
make  them.  The  beginning  of  the  end  is 
coincident  with  the  beginning  of  the  begin 
ning.  She  has  an  arrangement  with  des 
tiny.  She  is " 

"Stuff!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 
"Not  at  all !  Not  at  all !"  he  cried.  "I'll 
bet  Hannah  Atkins  to  a  fresh  infant  that 
Mrs.  Ulswater  laid  the  lines  of  your  future  a 
year  and  a  half  ago,  and  started  for  a  pre 
destined  Island  of  Clementina,  and  collected 
a  foreordinate  orphan  whom  she  had  spotted 
from  the  description  of  the  late  Mr.  Tupper. 
'Susannah/  she  said  to  herself,  'will  do  for 
Kit.  We'll  go  to  Clementina.'  Pundits, 
prime  ministers,  and  reigning  monarchs  she 
picked  up  by  way — populations  rioted  as  she 


End  of  the  Voyage          265 

found  convenient — mere  incidental  details  to 
a  further  end.  Through  helplessly  remon 
strant  oceans,  through  a  universe  undisci 
plined  and  disorderly,  she  pursued  the 
judicious  tenor  of  her  way.  Here  and  there 
she  altered  the  trend  of  history.  It  was 
nothing.  Missions !  Not  at  all.  Her  pur 
pose  \vas  to  make  a  match.  The  feminine 

mind " 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Mrs.  Ulswater. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
Ztonville 

IN  San  Francisco  Dr.  Ulswater  set  about 
despatching  Hannah  Atkins  eastward, 
and  I  got  into  communication  with  The 
Union  Electric  Company.  Sadler  disap 
peared.  He  went  with  Dr.  Ulswater  to  see 
Hannah  Atkins  despatched,  and  then  disap 
peared  on  business  of  his  own. 

Dr.  Ulswater  wired  east:  "Goods  shipped 
by  S.  P.  as  per  letter  to  follow."  Two  days 
later  he  received  a  telegram  from  the  East : 
"What's  the  trouble  with  your  shipment?" 
He  wired  back :  "Don't  know  of  any  trou 
ble,"  and  received  this  mystic  and  portentous 
reply :  "Held  up  at  Zionville." 

Zionville!  Where  and  what  was  Zion 
ville?  Dr.  Ulswater  and  I  were  to  find 
out.  How  shall  one  answer  the  question: 
"What  is  Zionville  ?"  We  may  begin  in  this 
way: 

266 


Zionville  267 


A  stranger  visiting  Zionville  to-day,  if  he 
is  one  with  eyes  to  see  understandingly,  will 
notice  that  the  distinction  of  the  place,  in 
some  singular  and  subtle  way,  seems  to  come 
together  and  concentrate  on  its  cemetery,  a 
noble  enclosure  with  an  imposing  arched 
gateway.  He  will  wonder  how  and  why. 

If  he  takes  my  advice,  he  will  inquire  first 
for  Babbitt's  Hotel.  He  will  find  there  a 
long  veranda  with  thin  green  pillars,  many 
cane-backed  chairs,  and  many  occupants  of 
the  chairs.  Of  these  occupants  let  him  in 
quire  for  William  C.  Jones.  It  may  well  be 
that  one  of  the  occupants  will  be  William  C. 
Jones.  Let  him  fall  into  casual  conversation 
with  William  C.  Jones.  He  will  find  him 
full  of  local  patriotism,  elderly,  cross-eyed, 
a  lawyer  by  profession,  a  man  of  harsh 
voice,  and  manner  of  speech  as  indirect 
as  his  left  eye;  of  a  bleak  and  bar 
ren  face,  heavy,  morose,  shaped  like 
a  Bartlett  pear,  with  light  eyelashes  and 
no  eyebrows;  a  man  of  statesmanlike  car- 


268  Zionville 


riage,  with  care  up  on  his  forehead.  Let  the 
stranger,  pointing  to  the  cemetery's  tallest 
monument,  at  last  inquire : 

"What's  that  monument  for?"  Maybe, 
if  he  should  speak  of  it  as  "that  pillar  of  dis 
tress,"  or  some  such  equivocal  term  as  might 
suggest  a  doubt  whether  he  liked  its  archi 
tecture,  it  might  be  a  good  plan.  Then 
William  C.  Jones  will  fasten  on  either  side 
of  his  questioner  a  glassy  diagonal  stare,  and 
speak  something  to  this  general  effect,  in 
quiring  : 

— Whether  you  are  a  sarcastic  and  face 
tious  party,  or  one  that  has  misspent  his  youth 
and  means  to  die  sudden  and  ignorant;  and  if 
so,  whether  you  are  inclined  to  ribaldry,  and 
don't  know  a  real  serious  subject  from  a  can 
of  spoiled  beans;  or  are  merely  a  sort  of 
Hottentot  party,  disguised  in  a  different  and 
on  the  whole  inferior  kind  of  homeliness, 
with  features  not  well  assorted,  morals  de 
praved,  and  intellect  omitted;  and  if  so, 
whether  on  that  account  you  ought  to  be 


Zionville  269 


excused  for  illiteracy  respecting  that  world- 
renowned  monument,  or  were  not  well 
brought  up,  and  possibly  intend  better  than 
you  talk. 

In  that  way  the  subject  will  be  fairly 
opened. 

Under  the  guidance  of  William  C.  Jones 
let  the  stranger  go  about,  listen,  and  observe. 
He  will  hear  that  originally  Zionville  was 
the  offspring  of  a  gold  mine.  He  will  see 
that  at  present  she  lies  in  the  midst  of  or 
chards  and  vineyards.  Superficially,  she  is 
a  small  and  happy  city  lying  between  the  flat 
plain  of  the  Sacramento  and  the  lower  foot 
hills  of  the  Sierras.  In  reality  she  is  a  per 
sonage.  No  origins  account  for  Zionville, 
and  no  appearances  define  her. 

Dr.  Ulswater  is  fond  of  drawing  fine  dis 
tinctions  between  what  he  calls  "the  phe 
nomenal  and  noumenal  Zionville,"  between 
"the  objective  and  the  subjective  Zionville," 
between  Zionville  as  she  appears  to  the 
senses  and  "Zionville  as  such."  This  is  all 


270  Zionville 


more  or  less  beyond  me,  but  I'd  go  so  far  as 
to  admit  that  "Zionville  as  such"  is  a  person 
age  without  parallel  in  the  solar  system, 
without  example  in  the  Milky  Way.  How 
shall  I  describe  her?  She  is  romantic,  and 
incurably  young.  She  is  nonchalant,  and 
yet  interested.  She  is  open,  unashamed,  and 
yet  impenetrable. 

When  Dr.  Ulswater  and  I  first  saw  her, 
she  appeared  to  consist  of  some  hundreds  of 
ramshackle  houses  thrown  clown  anywhere, 
a  few  handsome  residences  on  the  hillsides, 
a  couple  of  brick  blocks,  a  high  school,  a  jail, 
three  churches,  Babbitt's  Hotel,  and  an  out 
lying  Chinatown.     There  were  no  sidewalks 
then  to  speak  of,  except  on  Main  Street. 
There  were  some  gas  lamps,  but  nothing 
electric,  and  nothing  that  looked  like  a  ceme 
tery.     Westward  lay  the  plain,  eastward  the 
wooded  hills  and  lonely  canyons.     Nothing 
spoke  outwardly  of  Zionville's  aspirations, 
her  hopes  and  dreams.     And  yet  she  stood 
there  in  a  crisis  of  her  history. 


Zionville  271 


It  is  well  established  now  that  there  are 
three  great  dates  in  Zionville  history,  of 
which  the  first  marks  the  discovery  of  the 
Eureka  Gold  Mine,  and  the  second  the  Ref 
ormation.  Opinion  agrees  that  before  the 
Reformation  she  was  already  a  personage, 
but  admits  that  her  morals  were  seedy;  that 
morals  was  not  a  subject  to  which  she  gave 
any  great  attention. 

The  history  of  the  reform  movement  is  a 
volume  by  itself.  The  subject  of  morals 
once  called  to  her  attention,  she  went  at  it 
with  her  characteristic  ardour  and  efficiency. 
Anything  labelled  "Morality"  she  was  ready 
to  try.  She  set  her  mind  on  higher  things. 
She  became  conscious  of  her  destiny.  A 
new  era  dawned.  She  discarded  her  old 
name.  The  name  "Zionville"  dates  only 
from  the  Reformation.  Her  former  name 
is  expunged  from  her  records.  No  public- 
spirited  citizen  ever  mentions  it  now. 

Dr.  Ulswater  and  I  stepped,  then,  from 
the  train,  and  looked  about  us,  and  saw  a 


272  Zionville 


drowsy,  shiftless  looking  town,  loafing, 
sprawling  at  the  feet  of  the  hills.  We  cared 
nothing  for  Zionville.  We  were  looking  for 
Hannah  Atkins.  We  wanted  to  know  what 
brigand  of  the  Sierras  was  low-down  enough 
to  hold  up  a  lady  of  her  age,  discretion,  de 
cent  poverty,  and  illustrious  descent.  We 
asked  the  station  master  if  he  had  any  news 
about  him  concerning  such  and  such  goods, 
so  and  so  labelled. 

He  was  a  small  man  with  pale  eyes.  No 
sooner  had  Dr.  Ulswater  spoken  than  his 
pale  eyes  glowed  with  purpose.  There  was 
a  sudden  and  mysterious  light  in  them.  It 
was  the  reflection  of  the  torch  of  Zionville. 
It  was  our  first  glimpse  of  Zionville's  pure 
flame. 

He  sprang  up.  He  ran  past  us  without 
speaking,  out  through  the  open  door,  and 
sped  up  the  dusty  street.  We  stood  alone  in 
the  silent,  empty  station.  The  doctor 
walked  to  the  door,  adjusted  his  glasses,  and 
gazed  after.  I  followed. 


Zionville  273 


"Doctor,"  I  said,  "Hannah's  got  into 
trouble.  Maybe  she  stopped  off  for  break 
fast  and  didn't  pay  her  bills." 

He  was  beyond  the  reach  of  jibes,  listen 
ing,  gazing  at  the  phenomena  before  him. 
We  both  looked.  We  saw  Zionville  waking 
up,  shaking  her  mane,  pealing  her  eagle  eye, 
girding  her  loins  and  unlimbering  herself. 
First  one  figure,  then  another  appeared  in 
the  hot  sunny  street;  then  groups,  throngs, 
gathered  and  martialled.  The  dust  rose  so 
thickly  as  to  hide  them,  but  the  distant  mur 
mur  grew,  and  now  we  heard  the  thump  of 
drums,  the  clash  of  cymbals,  the  piping  of 
fifes.  The  brown  dust  cloud  came  rolling 
down  the  street  toward  the  station;  through 
it  we  soon  discerned  the  approaching  proces 
sion,  men  and  women  and  a  fringe  of 
clamouring  children. 

"Mad!"  said  Dr.  Ulswater.  "Why, 
it's  a  palpably  insane  community!  What 
do  you  conjecture  they're  after?"  I 
said: 


274  Zionville 


"Maybe  it's  Hannah's  pedigree.  Maybe 
it's  us." 

The  dusty  procession  was  upon  us.  We 
were  seized  and  thrust  into  the  middle  of  it. 
The  tumult,  the  shouting,  and  the  noise  of 
semi-musical  instruments  was  so  great  that 
if  anybody  attempted  to  explain  or  answer 
questions,  I  didn't  make  it  out.  I  noticed 
that  the  confusion  was  really  superficial. 
Nobody  seemed  to  be  in  command,  every  one 
seemed  to  have  a  hand  in  what  was  going 
on — whatever  it  was — and  some  common 
understood  purpose  seemed  to  guide  it  all. 
It  was  an  organised  miscellany.  Up  the 
the  street  we  went  through  the  dust,  drums, 
cymbals,  fifes,  and  flags  before  and  after. 
We  turned  at  last,  crowding  up  the  alley 
where  a  large  hall  used  to  stand  behind 
Gregson's  grocery.  Whoever  in  Zionville 
was  not  in  that  hall  was  looking  in  through 
the  windows. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
Wlliam  C.  $one0  an&  Xoulea 

AT  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  was  a  low 
platform,  on  the  left  side  of  which  sat 
twelve  men  on  benches.  At  the  right  end 
of  the  platform  stood  that  familiar  oblong 
box  that  contained  the  last  tabernacle  of 
Hannah  Atkins.  The  covers  were  off. 
There  were  signs  about  her  of  considerable 
investigation.  A  table  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  platform  and  behind  it  sat  a  very 
small  man,  with  a  long  silky  black  beard  and 
very  delicate  features. 

Gentlest  and  suavest  of  men!  He  was 
called  "Louisa,"  this  magistrate.  For  if  he 
had,  hanging  disconsolately  in  the  rear  of 
his  history,  the  family  name  of  "Bumper," 
it  was  nothing  to  the  point.  The  sure  taste 
and  discretion  of  Zionville  always  refused  it, 
275 


276    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

At  that  time  he  was  Justice  of  the  Peace,  and 
Coroner,  and  some  other  things,  and  in  after 
days  Mayor  of  Zionville.  His  voice  was 
sweet,  tender,  soothing,  a  sort  of  a  tenor 
warble;  his  manners  were  beautiful,  and 
language  flowed  from  him  like  molasses 
from  a  spigot. 

In  front  of  the  platform  stood  a  man  of 
features  reminding  one  of  the  Sahara 
Desert.  This  was  William  C.  Jones,  the 
Public  Prosecutor. 

Dr.  Ulswater  was  in  a  condition  of  wrath. 
With  him  a  condition  of  wrath  implied  a 
condition  of  eloquence.  We  being  hauled  up 
before  that  soft  and  subtle  child,  Louisa, 
with  Louisa,  W.  C.  Jones,  and  all  Zionville 
wanting  to  know  all  about  Hannah  Atkins 
all  at  once, — being,  in  fact,  for  the  first  time 
face  to  face  with  Zionville,  that  unique 
phenomenon, — any  kind  of  behaviour  on  our 
part  would  be  likely  enough ;  but  on  account 
of  haste,  and  on  account  of  some  punches  in 
the  back  due  to  the  ardour  of  the  occasion, 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    277 

Dr.  Uls water  had  emotions  in  his  head  that 
kept  discharging  his  hand  upwards  from  his 
head  in  a  series  of  explosions,  and  he  started 
in  to  give  his  opinion  of  Zionville,  and  let 
off  opinions  in  volleys  and  artillery  playing 
wonderful.  But  Louisa  flowed  over  him  like 
molasses  over  a  hot  griddle  cake : 

"Later,  sir,  later,  we  shall  be  happy  to  dis 
cuss  with  you  the  foibles  of  our  society,  but 
what  we  are  interested  in  now  is  how  this 
party,  in  this  here  truncated  coffin,  came  to 
be  travelling  through  Zionville  in  this  here 
noncommittal  manner;  also,  as  to  what  may 
be  the  names,  titles,  pretensions,  antecedents, 
residences,  of  yourself  and  friend;  also  of 
the  noncommittal  party  aforesaid;  also  what 
may  be  your  connection  with  that  party. 
These,  sir,  are  the  points  on  which  Zionville 
desires  to  be  informed.  But  perhaps  this 
other  gentleman  can  give  us  some  succinct 
statement,  some  short  cut  to  the  information 
this  community  is  after." 

I  gave  Louisa  our  names,  and  told  him  the 


278    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

party  he  referred  to  was  a  foreign  lady  that 
went  by  the  name  of  "Hannah  Atkins,"  at 
least  lately  she  been  so  called  though  I  had 
reason  to  believe  it  was  an  alias,  or  a  cor 
ruption  of  her  title  and  pretension. 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Louisa,  sweetly. 
"We  progress,  and  your  statements  reason 
ably  agree  with  the  information  we  already 
have.  And  now  possibly  Dr.  Ulswater  will 
entertain  us  with  some  still  eloquent  but 
more  pertinent  remarks,  some  exhilarating 
but  not  too  gruesome  anecdotes,  illustrating 
the  immediate  causes  of  this  lady's  de 
cease." 

The  doctor  took  a  new  start.  He  made 
some  flourishing  archaeological  statements 
about  the  Incas  and  the  antiseptic  qualities 
of  the  Andean  climate,  and  then  he  sailed  off 
on  the  high  seas  of  South-American  lore  and 
his  own  enthusiasm  over  Hannah  Atkins. 
But  he  was  still  somewhat  flustered  and  con 
fused.  There  was  a  growing  tumult  round 
about.  I  judged  Zionville  didn't  follow 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    279 

him.  Louisa  said  it  wouldn't  do,  and  Wil 
liam  C.  Jones  rose  up  gloomy  and  bleak,  and 
his  forefinger  started  arguing  up  and  down 
like  a  walking  beam.  He  wanted  to 
know : 

— Whether  them  hideous  words,  unac 
counted  for  by  any  civilised  alphabet,  was  the 
names  of  Mrs.  Atkins'  ancestors,  or  of  the 
last  heathen  jurymen  that  had  tried  him  (Dr. 
Ulswater)  for  some  previous  harrowing 
crime;  and  if  so,  whether  remarks  made  in 
the  Choctaw  language  on  insurance  statis 
tics,  such  as  his  (Dr.  Ulswater's)  remarks 
appeared  to  him  (the  speaker)  to  be,  were 
not  likely  to  impress  an  intelligent  jury  as 
intended  to  mislead  and  deceive;  and  if  so, 
whether  he  (Dr.  Ulswater)  didn't  mean, — 
before  justice  was  summarily  executed  upon 
him  by  the  aroused  public  spirit  of  Zion- 
ville, — to  brush  his  hair  and  procure  a  set  of 
whiskers  less  weedy  and  revolting;  and  if 
so,  whether  he  meant  to  depose  that  this  here 
deceased  party  came  by  her  death  naturally 


280    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

or  not;  and  if  so,  whether  he  hadn't  no  better 
account  to  give  of  his  possession  of  the  same 
than  incoherent  statements,  which  plainly 
was  meant  to  evade  inquiry  with  irrelevant 
excursions  into  doubtful  tradition 

'"Doctor,"  said  Louisa,  "I  grieve  to  have 
misled  you.  I  intended  to  make  plain  the 
desire  of  the  jury  for  information,  not  on  the 
subject  of  this  lady's  remote  ancestry,  but  as 
to  how  she  came  by  her  death,  and  why  she 
was  travelling  around,  not  as  an  authenti 
cated  corpse,  but  as  an  inorganic  freight,  ad 
dressed  to  some  more  or  less  mythological 
institution,  some  abstract  idea  on  the  other 
side  of  the  continent.  Do  I  now  make  my 
self  clear,  sir?  Do  I  understand  you  to 
depose  her  death  to  have  been  violent  or 
natural  ?" 

"How  the  blazes  should  I  know?"  cried 
the  doctor,  exasperated. 

"The  defendant,  gentlemen,  deposes  that 
he  don't  know.  The  defendant,  in  fact,  de 
clines  to  testify  on  the  point." 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    281 

"She's  a  mummy!"  shouted  the  doctor. 
"A  mummy!  What's  the  matter  with  this 
maniac  of  a  town  ?  If  you  don't  know  what 
a  mummy  is,  I'm  telling  you.  I  know  all 
about  her  that  anybody  knows,"  and  he  went 
on  to  tell  what  he  knew,  but  William  C. 
Jones  bore  him  down,  inquiring  with  the 
voice  of  calamity : 

— Whether  them  figures  he  (Dr.  Uls- 
water)  was  giving  was  the  dimensions  of 
the  city  of  Cuzco,  or  the  age  of  Mrs.  Atkins' 
parents  at  the  time  of  her  death,  or  the 
geography  of  the  Andes,  or  the  story  of 
Mrs.  Atkins'  young  romance;  and  if  so, 
whether  he  (Dr.  Ulswater)  was  acquainted 
with  her  in  youth;  and  if  so,  whether  she 
was  as  yellow  at  that  time  or  affected  since 
by  a  fever  of  that  colour;  and  if  so,  inas 
much  as  his  (Dr.  Ulswater's)  statements 
seemed  to  imply  that  he  was  no  relative  but 
only  an  admirer  of  Mrs.  Atkins,  whether  his 
(Dr.  Ulswater's)  manifestly  false  and  ab 
surd  statement  that  she  was  upwards  of  four 


282    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

hundred  years  old  and  her  complexion  com 
plicated  with  considerable  paint,  wasn't  an 
unchivalrous  statement,  that  throwed  doubts 
on  the  genuineness  of  his  (Dr.  Ulswater's) 
boasted  admiration;  and  if  so,  and  there  was 
any  museum  in  Connecticut  unscrupulous 
enough  for  such  barbarous  inhumanity,  and 
Mrs.  Atkins  and  Dr.  Ulswater  ever  arrived 
there — in  defeat  of  justice — whether  they 
was  intended  to  be  exhibited  in  the  same 
show  case;  and  if  so,  whether  the  promis 
cuous  and  opprobrious  language  he  (Dr. 
Ulswater)  was  at  present  using  was  by 
him  thought  calculated  to  benefit  his 

case 

"Doctor,"  said  Louisa,  "Zionville  is 
pleased  to  know  you.  Under  other  circum 
stances  your  evanescent  humour  would  de 
light  us  beyond  measure.  But  it  is  the 
opinion  of  the  Court  you  ought  to  be  in 
formed  that  this  is  a  moral  town.  Yes,  sir. 
Not  insanity  but  morality  is  what's  hit  us. 
It's  the  moralest  town  this  side  the  Divide. 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    283 

We've  got  that  reputation  with  the  sweat  of 
our  virtues.  There  was  a  time  when  any 
body  found  in  possession  of  a  corpse  might 
be  asked  what  he  was  going  to  do  with  it,  or 
he  might  not,  according  to  idle  curiosity  or 
intelligent  interest.  But  times  are  changed. 
We  make  a  point  now  of  asking  where  he 
got  it;  which  is,  of  course,  a  sacrifice  of  per 
fect  courtesy  to  exacting  morals.  We  admit 
it.  But,  sir,  you  have  projected  this  here 
casket  loaded  with  moral  dynamite — if  I 
may  so  state  it — into  this  here  moral  com 
munity,  and  yet  you  claim  not  to  know 
'What  the  blazes' — if  I  quote  correctly — 
she  died  of.  The  Court  deprecates  this  dis 
trustful  attitude.  The  Court  regards  such 
reserve  as  suspicious,  incriminating.  In 
response  to  pertinent  and  proper  questions 
you  indulge  some  humorous  statements  re 
garding — if  I  caught  the  word — "mum 
mies/'  some  jocular  reference  to  the 
venerable  appearance  of  the  deceased — as 
the  Court  supposes.  The  Court  has  already 


284    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

inferred  deceased  was  an  Injun,  and  there 
fore  don't  care  about  the  rest  of  her  ances 
try.  You  admit,  sir,  you  know  all  about 
her,  that  you  are  in  complete  possession  of 
the  facts  so  far  as  known  to  any  one.  And 
yet,  omitting  the  one  pertinent  fact,  namely 
the  cause  and  circumstances  of  her  death, 
you  deliver  an  uncalled-for  lecture  on  Injun 
customs.  The  Court  deprecates  this  learned 
frivolity.  The  Court  penetrates  your  fool 
ish  subterfuge.  The  Court  proposes  to  in 
form  you  of  the  evidence  in  its  possession 
bearing  on  this  case." 

Here  Louisa  took  a  document  from  his 
pocket. 

"The  following  letter,"  he  said,  "was  re 
ceived  day  before  yesterday,  addressed  'To 
The  Magistrates  of  Zionville.' 

"  'GENTLEMEN  : — 

"  'On  the  1 4th,  probably  on  the  afternoon 
east-bound  freight,  there  will  enter  Zionville 
and  endeavour  to  pass  through  a  suspicious 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    285 

looking  box  addressed  to  some  institution  in 
Connecticut  that  may  or  may  not  exist.    The 
undersigned  is  not  informed.     But  the  un 
dersigned   is   well   informed   that   the   con 
signor  of  said  box  passes  under  the  name  of 
"James  Ulswater."     Now,  if  on  examina 
tion  of  that  there  box,  the  Magistrates  of 
Zionville  is  of  the   opinion   that  this  yere 
"James  Ulswater"  is  a  party  that  oughtn't 
to  be  at  large,  the  undersigned  ain't  going  to 
dispute  that  opinion,  undersigned  being  of 
the  opinion  the  contents  of  said  box  is,  or 
was  once,  a  respectable  middle-aged  woman, 
with  some  Injun  blood  in  her,  and  named 
Hannah  Atkins,  as  to  occasions  of  whose 
death  it  ain't  for  him  to  say.     Only  he  don't 
take  no   stock   in   "James   Ulswater's"   re 
marks  on  the  subject.     They  don't  inspire 
no  respect  in  his  bosom.     As  to  how  "James 
Ulswater"    came    into   possession    of    Mrs. 
Atkins'   remains,   the   undersigned  believes 
James  Ulswater  has  something  up  his  sleeve 
that  he  dassent  tell.     To  what  end  then  is 


286    William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa 

"James  Ulswater"  shipping  Mrs.  Atkins, 
without  sign  of  mourning  or  mortuary  sym 
bol,  but  with  stealth,  concealment  and  dis 
respect,  over  the  innocent  track  and  guileless 
freight  agencies  of  the  S.  P.  R.  R.  ? 

"  'Yours   truly, 

"  'A  FORMER  CITIZEN  OF  ZIONVILLE 
who  Believes  in  her  Destiny  and  Honours 
her  Morals/  " 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Louisa,  "do  the  suspi 
cions  of  our  fellow  citizen  appear  to  you 
justified?" 

The  jurymen  nodded  one  after  another, 
like  a  row  of  tenpins. 

"Do  the  prisoner's  remarks  inspire  con 
fidence  in  your  bosoms?" 

One  after  another  the  jurymen  shook 
their  heads. 

"Then  the  Court  directs  the  sheriff  to  re 
move  the  elderly  party  calling  himself  'Ills- 
water/  and  his  presumable  accomplice,  the 
younger  party  with  the  particular  necktie 


William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa    287 

and  advantageous  trousers,  calling  himself 
'Kirby,'  and  that  the  sheriff  hold  these 
parties  for  further  action.  The  Court  is 
adjourned." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
Bmbaseafcors  from  £fom>iHe 

IT  seemed  to  me  I  was  getting  into  the 
habit  of  incarceration.  I  passed  from 
jail  to  jail.  It  was  becoming  monotonous. 
But  this  was  a  creditable  jail,  built  in  the 
fervour  of  the  Reformation,  with  a  consider 
able  veranda  in  front  facing  on  Main  Street. 
In  the  fervour  of  the  Reformation  it  had 
been,  as  you  might  say,  a  centre  of  interest  in 
Zionville.  So  many  citizens  got  enclosed 
there  during  that  period  for  one  reason  or 
another  connected  with  their  not  under 
standing  the  tendency  of  events,  that  this 
jail  always  had  a  peculiar  social  standing. 
It  was  not  like  the  jails  of  other  com 
munities.  It  bore  no  necessary  social 
stigma.  If  a  citizen  was  deposited  there,  it 
made  all  the  difference,  and  depended  on  the 
amount  of  repentance  his  case  was  supposed 
to  call  for,  whether  he  was  put  in  a  front  or 
288 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    289 

a  rear  cell.  Because  in  a  front-windowed 
cell  he  could  see  Main  Street,  and  maybe 
talk  with  friends  in  the  street,  or  join  in  the 
conversation  on  the  veranda.  In  this  way 
the  Judge  and  the  condemned  of  the  preced 
ing  afternoon  might  often  be  arguing  in  the 
evening  through  a  barred  window  about 
politics  or  religion.  Hence  it  always  made  a 
man  vexed  and  low  in  mind  to  be  put  in  a 
rear  cell,  where  he  couldn't  see  Main  Street. 

Doctor  Ulswater  and  I  were  put  in  a  cell 
over  the  veranda,  and  through  the  barred 
window  we  could  see  the  length  of  Main 
Street,  which  ran  from  the  railway  station, 
at  one  end  of  the  town,  to  nothing  in  par 
ticular,  as  yet,  at  the  other  end.  Main 
Street  now  runs  from  the  railway  to  the 
cemetery,  but  at  that  time  it  ran  off  into 
generalities. 

Main  Street  at  that  moment  was  full  of  a 
crowd  which  acted  as  if  it  all  belonged  to  one 
family.  I  could  see  Louisa  standing  on  a 
dry-goods  box  and  talking  confidentially  to 


290    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

the  family.  There  was  a  general  session  of 
Zionville  on  Main  Street.  I  judged  we 
were  the  subject  of  conversation,  along  with 
Hannah  Atkins.  William  C.  Jones  and  two 
other  statesmen  were  walking  around  arm  in 
arm.  The  whole  place  was  buzzing  like  a 
beehive. 

Then  I  noticed  that  Dr.  Ulswater  was  not 
saying  anything.  He  was  looking  over  my 
shoulder  through  the  bars  silently,  and  all 
anger  was  gone  from  his  face. 

"Kit,"  he  said,  mildly,  "this  is  a  town  of 
great  interest  to  archaeology." 

I  thought  it  over,  and  said: 

"Seems  to  me  it'd  be  of  more  interest  to 
Mrs.  Ulswater's  orphan  asylum.  It's  too 
fresh.  It's  the  most  youthful-minded  place 
I  ever  saw.  I  don't  see  any  archaeology  in 
it." 

"Precisely,"  he  said.  "The  youthfulness 
of  Zionville  struck  me  too,  and  that  not  so 
much  because  of  her  crude  appearance  as 
because  of  her  buoyancy.  I  said  to  myself, 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    291 

'Clearly  we  are  home  again.  This  is  no 
Latin  mob  of  Portate,  no  explosion  of  fire 
crackers,  no  furious  inefficiency.  This  is 
gunpowder  in  a  gun.  Here  is  the  organis 
ing  instinct,  the  jocular  humour,  together 
with  the  deadly  arrival.  We  are  in  the 
States.'  But  yet  I  was  not  satisfied  with 
that,  and  those  considerations  are  not  what's 
hoisting  me  now.  Cast  your  eyes  back  over 
the  late  events.  Look  from  this  window  on 
that  people  in  their  market  place,  their 
forum,  their  agora.  Recollect  how  Zion 
ville  got  herself  together.  What  unity? 
What  esprit  de  corps?  You  recognise  it? 
Ha!  No!  It's  Greek,  sir,  Greek!  It's  the 
civic  clan,  the  municipal  State.  So  looked 
the  Athenians,  so  they  acted  in  their  market 
place.  We  have  arrived  not  only  in  the 
States,  but  in  Zionville.  Now,  what  is 
Zionville?  A  piece  of  antiquity!  Ar 
chaeology  in  flesh  and  blood!  Pompeii  be 
hanged.  This  is  better  than  Pompeii.  This 
is  a  reversion,  an  atavism!" 


292    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

I  said:  "You'd  better  not  deal  out  suspi 
cious  sounding  names  like  those  within 
hearing  of  Zionville.  She's  high-bred  and 
nervous.  If  you  mean  she's  a  town  with  a 
character,  I  agree.  She  has  more  character 
than  a  bucking  bronco." 

"Mysterious  and  extraordinary  town,"  he 
muttered.  "Ha!  You're  right.  'Charac 
ter'  is  the  word.  Personality !  Personality 
fascinates  me.  I  haven't  the  article  myself. 
I'm  a  nebulous  gas.  Hence  I  thirst  for,  I 
cling  to,  personality.  Most  mysterious, 
most  interesting  town !" 

"I  don't  deny  the  interest,  doctor,"  I  said, 
"but  it  seems  to  me  it's  sort  of  concentrated 
around  the  question  whether  or  not  that 
crowd  is  going  to  take  a  notion  to  lynch  us. 
It  looks  like  a  crowd  that  takes  notions. 
Would  an  Athenian  populace  be  likely  to  act 
that  way?" 

"Precisely,"  he  cried  with  enthusiasm. 
"Look  at  Socrates!" 

It  seemed  to  me  Zionville  had  some  game 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    293 

going  on,  but  I  didn't  make  out  what  the 
game  was.  It  seemed  to  me  a  lynching 
would  be  little  short  of  frivolous.  But  then 
the  Athenians  had  acted  frivolous  about 
Socrates.  Zionville  was  surely  an  un 
expected  place.  But  the  crowd  in  Main 
Street  didn't  act  like  an  angry  crowd.  It 
acted  interested. 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  our  cell 
opened  and  Louisa  and  William  C.  Jones 
walked  in.  They  sat  down  on  a  bench  with 
out  speaking,  and  there  they  sat  and  seemed 
to  be  embarrassed,  and  William  C.  Jones' 
left  eye  was  searching  sideways  for  the 
cosine  of  x,  and  he  began  to  question : 

— Whether  coming  in  a  spirit  of  concilia 
tion  or  to  speak  last  words  of  warning  or 
entreaty;  and  if  so — 

And  there  he  stopped,  as  if  he  couldn't 
quite  get  his  gait. 

"Maybe  you're  ambassadors,"  I  said, 
"ambassadors  from  Zionville." 

"The  very  word,  sir,"  said  Louisa,  look- 


294    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

ing  pleased.  "Ambassadors  from  Zion 
ville."  And  William  C.  Jones  began  again 
to  indicate  his  doubts : 

— Whether  a  certain  document  received 
by  Magistrates  was  intended  to  further  pub 
lic  interests,  or  private  ends,  or  mixed  in 
motive;  and  if  so,  whether  Dr.  Ulswater's 
account  of  deceased  party  in  question  might 
be  accepted  by  Magistrates  and  apologies 
tendered,  according  to  attitude  he  (Dr.  Uls- 
water)  might  hereafter  assume;  and  if  so, 
whether  he  (Dr.  Ulswater)  would  rather 
the  deceased  party  in  question  should  be  con 
fiscated  as  incidental  to  judicial  proceedings 
whose  results,  although  likely  to  be  fatal  to 
him  (Dr.  Ulswater)  and  his  accomplice, 
Zionville  could  no  more  than  vainly  regret, 
public  interest  being  of  first  importance ;  and 
if  so,  whether  Dr.  Ulswater  would  consent 
to  deliver  over  Mrs.  Atkins  peaceably,  for  a 
consideration,  to  the  necessities  of  Zionville, 
and  thereby  win  an  honourable  place  in  her 
(Zionville's)  history;  and  if  so,  whether  he 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    295 

would  state  his  mind  on  that  point  without 
incommoding  the  subject  with  the  conquest 
of  Peru,  or  the  natural  history  of  South 
America,  and  thereby  would  accommodate 
the  Magistrates;  and  if  so,  or  whether  it 
would  be  necessary  to  return  to  the  Court 
House  in  order  to  hasten  proceedings  to  the 
end  that  he  (Dr.  Ulswater)  and  his  accom 
plice  might  be  hung  before  the  shades  of 
evening  softly  descended,  in  the  interests  of 
justice  and  the  destinies  of  Zionville;  and  if 
so,  whether  he  would  accept  or  decline  the 
said  proposition, — 

"Doctor,"  said  Louisa,  sliding  in  like 
syrup.  "Allow  me  to  state  briefly  a  few 
pertinent  facts.  Zionville  is  a  moral  town. 
It's  the  moralest  town  you  ever  saw.  But, 
sir,  we  see  the  necessity  of  getting  this  at 
mospheric  morality  embodied  in  substantial 
institutions.  We  have  already  a  high  school 
with  an  Eastern  college  graduate  at  the 
head.  We  have  three  churches  provided 
with  clergymen,  not  one  of  whom  dares 


296    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

show  himself  on  the  street  without  a  choke 
collar.  And,  sir,  we  have  a  cemetery;  that 
is,  so  far  as  a  fence  around  it,  and  an  excel 
lent  grave,  well  excavated,  goes  toward  pro 
viding  such  an  institution;  which,  however, 
public  opinion  is  unanimous  it  don't  go  far 
enough.  For  there  was  once  a  time  in  Zion 
ville  when  there'd  have  been  no  particular 
difficulty  on  this  point,  but  those  days  are 
passed.  In  those  days,  when  anybody  was 
dead, — as  might  happen  perhaps  by  perfora 
tion,  and  airiness  in  vital  parts, — and  if  he 
was  worth  while,  we  used  to  ship  him  to 
Sacramento  to  get  a  ceremony  ready  made; 
and  if  he  wasn't  worth  while,  we  didn't  take 
much  notice  where  he  was  planted;  and 
therefore  there  wasn't  any  cemetery  that 
anybody  could  find  if  he  wanted  one.  Such 
were  our  customs  and  traditions  in  those 
days.  But  Zionville  reformed.  She  took 
up  with  sackcloth.  She  sat  down  to  mourn, 
and  she  rose  up  reformed.  'Morals,'  she 
says,  'shall  be  my  watchword.  Morals,'  she 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    297 

says,  'that's  me.'  Sir,  since  then  there  ain't 
anybody  died  in  Zionville  whatsoever,  none 
whatever  at  all.  But  sometime  ago  there 
was  a  man  named  Jim  Tweedy,  who  got 
indented  with  a  chimney  falling  on  him,  to 
that  extent  he  looked  not  only  dead  but  dis 
reputable,  and  you  couldn't  have  told  him 
from  any  other  miscellaneous  debris.  And 
one  of  our  esteemed  citizens,  named  Pete 
Chapel,  he  got  officious  and  jubilant,  and 
went  off  by  himself,  and  dug  a  sepulchre  on 
some  land  that  belonged  to  him  out  the  end 
of  Main  Street.  But  was  Jim  Tweedy 
dead  ?  Doctor,  he  was  not !  But  he  played 
off  he  was  for  forty-eight  hours,  and  then  he 
came  to,  and  looks  around  the  corners  of 
himself,  and  says,  'Blamed  if  I  ain't  all 
triangles!'  but  he  wouldn't  have  a  thing  to 
do  with  that  location  Pete  Chapel  had  fixed 
up  for  him  particular.  He  rejected  it  with 
indignation.  Indeed,  he  was  perhaps  not 
justly  to  be  blamed,  though  he's  never  had 
the  standing  in  the  community  he  had  be- 


298    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

fore,  on  account  of  our  feeling  he  was  a 
man  that  couldn't  be  relied  on  when  public 
interest  was  concerned,  besides  looking  dis 
creditable  on  account  of  indentations  in  his 
surface;  nor  it  couldn't  be  denied  that  Pete 
Chapel's  position  was  uneasy  too,  seeing  it 
was  allowed  as  up  to  him  to  provide  some 
thing  for  the  situation.  So  he  put  up 
Tweedy's  grave  for  a  raffle,  and  it  fetched  a 
good  price,  over  the  value  of  the  land  about 
it,  on  account  of  public  spirit  in  the  town. 
After  that  it  changed  hands  considerable, 
the  price  fluctuating  according  to  rumours 
of  indispositions,  or  strangers  in  town  look 
ing  warlike.  It  went  up  and  down  till  it  got 
to  be  a  sort  of  thermometer  of  Zionville's 
condition  of  depression,  or  confidence  in  its 
destiny.  At  last  it  fell  into  the  hands  of 
William  C.  Jones,  here  present,  who  donated 
it  to  Zionville,  and  Zionville  put  a  fence 
around  the  property  and  denominated  the 
same  a  Cemetery.  Such  and  so  far  is  the 
history  of  this  institution.  But,  sir,  we  feel 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    299 

that  our  Cemetery  has  not  as  yet  attained  its 
proper    standing    in    our    community    by 
formally  entering  upon  its  career  of  public 
usefulness.       Our     morality     forbids     the 
thought  of  too  direct  action  to  that  end.     It 
has  been  suggested  that  time  would  remedy 
this  want.    True.    But  meanwhile  Zionville 
sees   its   progress    stayed,    its   development 
halted.     Now,  sir,  Zionville  discerns  in  Mrs. 
Atkins    an    extraordinary    fitness    for    this 
purpose.     William  C.  Jones  and  I  have  con 
sulted.     We  discern  a  rare  opportunity,  a 
crisis  in  Zionville's  history.     We  have  con 
sulted   with  our   fellow  citizens,   and   they 
have  took  to  the  idea  like  a  nigger  to  a 
watermelon.     Our  determination  is  inflexi 
ble.     A  monument  has  been  ordered  from 
Sacramento.     The  ceremonies  are  arranged 
whereby  to  plant  Mrs.  Atkins,  whereby  to 
inaugurate  our  Cemetery  conformable  to  the 
spirit  of  our  citizens.     The  San  Francisco 
press  has  been  notified  to  send  representa 
tives.     All  is  prepared.     Name  your  price, 


300    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

sir.  It's  yours.  Name  your  conditions. 
They're  granted.  The  antecedents  of  Mrs. 
Atkins  are  the  most  essential  elements  in  her 
value,  and  we  hope  to  see  them,  in  your  own 
eloquent  language,  indelibly  engraven  on  the 
monument." 

"Why,  bless  my  soul!"  said  Dr.  Ulswater. 
"What  good  would  a  Peruvian  mummy  do 
you?     Why  don't  you  bury  a  buffalo  and 
call  it  a  bishop  ?     What's  the  idea  ?" 
"Fame,"  said  Louisa. 
"Fame?  fame?     But  look  here!     Mum 
mies  belong  in  museums !" 

"Very  good,"  said  Louisa.  "Ain't  a 
cemetery  a  museum?  Alas,  sir!  a  collection 
of  various  mortality?" 

"Dear,  dear !     You'll  be  the  death  of  me." 

"Whether    it    shall    be    possible,"    began 

William   C.    Jones,    "to   avoid   compassing 

your  decease  through  obstinacy  and  public 

interests,  being  the  object  of  this  interview; 

and  if  so " 

"Your  honour,"  said  Dr.  Ulswater  with  a 


Ambassadors  from  Zionville    301 

grand  gesture.  Nobody  could  beat  him  for 
elegance  when  he  was  in  trim — "Your 
honour,"  he  said,  interrupting  W.  C.  and  ad 
dressing  Louisa,  "I  beg  the  privilege  of  do 
nating  Hannah  Atkins  to  Zionville,  and  to 
the  service  of  her  fame.  To  the  interests  of 
archaeology  Zionville  is  more  than  a  legion 
of  mummies." 

Louisa  ran  to  the  window,  thrust  his  hat 
through  the  bars  and  waved  it,  and  we  heard 
Zionville  break  forth  in  one  simultaneous 
pean. 

But  when  Dr.  Ulswater  and  I  came  out  of 
the  jail  and  joined  the  rejoicing,  when — as 
the  subject  and  centre  of  rejoicing — we 
came  down  opposite  Babbitt's  Hotel,  there 
we  saw,  on  the  veranda  of  it,  Sadler  six  feet 
two,  and  engaged  in  sinister  meditation 
against  a  green  pillar.  Then  I  knew  he  had 
written  the  Letter  to  the  Magistrates. 

He  came  down  from  the  veranda  to  join 
the  rejoicing,  and  when  I  claimed  to  see  into 
his  insidious  villainy,  he  looked  depressed; 


302    Ambassadors  from  Zionville 

but  Dr.  Ulswater  was  surprised  and  de 
lighted. 

"By  hookey!"  he  said, — For  since  his 
marriage  to  Mrs.  Ulswater  he  had  come  to 
swear  always  by  innocuous  things,  and  he 
was  hard  put  to  it  sometimes  for  satisfac 
tion;  hence  sometimes  his  objurgations  were 
familiar,  and  sometimes  recondite. — "By 
hookey !"  he  said,  "Sadler,  I  knew  there  was 
something  Zionville  reminded  me  of.  It 
was  you!" 

"I  belonged  to  her,"  said  Sadler,  sadly, 
walking  along  with  us — "before  she  re 
formed.  She  wollered  in  her  nakedness 
then,  and  we  both  found  out  that  sin  was 
monotonous.  Since  then  we've  each  took  a 
shy  at  the  spiritual  life  and  found  it  was 
sportier'n  the  other.  But  still  I  don't  know 
if  her  Sunday  School  clothes  will  fit  me. 
But,  doctor,"  he  concluded,  "if  it  suits  you 
and  Mrs.  Ulswater  to  sojourn  and  abide 
here,  I'll  try  on  them  clothes." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


IN  the  history  of  Zionville  the  dates  of  the 
Discovery  of  the  Eureka  Mine,  of  the 
Reformation,  and  of  the  Burial  of  Hannah 
Atkins,  are  like  1492  and  1776  in  the  history 
of  this  country.  Whether  those  foreseeing 
statesmen,  William  C.  Jones  and  Louisa, 
had  reasoned  the  whole  thing  out  or  not,  is 
now  the  question.  For  Sadler  claimed  that 
the  statesmanship  was  all  his,  and  that 
Louisa  and  W.  C.  were  trying  to  jump  his 
claim.  He  and  Louisa  and  W.  C.  Jones 
used  to  sit  on  the  veranda  of  Babbitt's,  and 
argue  which  of  them  ought  to  be  pensioned, 
and  have  a  bronze  statue,  and  brass  band  to 
play  for  him  at  meals.  Sadler's  argument 
was  that  he  came  down  on  the  heels  of  his 
Letter  to  the  Magistrates,  with  the  whole 
303 


304  The  End 


menu  cooked  in  his  own  mind.  He  saw  to 
it  himself  that  Hannah  stopped  over. 
Louisa  and  W.  C.  Jones  argued  that  the 
menu  developed  in  the  cooking,  that  is,  un 
der  discussion,  to  say  nothing  of  the  delicate 
handling  which  lay  to  their  credit.  More 
over,  they  argued  that  Sadler  had  mostly  in 
mind  the  private  need  that  lay  in  his  nature 
to  get  even  with  the  Ulswaters  for  shang 
haiing  him  off  Lua.  That  was  one  of  W.  C. 
Jones'  strong  arguments  against  him,  where 
by  there  fell  a  shadow  of  suspicion  on  his 
(Sadler's)  purity  of  motive.  He  had 
wanted  to  draw  Dr.  Ulswater  to,  and  get 
him  interested  in  Zionville,  where  he,  Sadler, 
had  lived  when  he  was  younger,  and  before 
he  went  over  to  Asia,  and  got  the  gray  ashes 
of  Asia  on  his  head.  He  had  a  sentiment 
for  Zionville,  as  have  all  who  breathe  her 
air. 

"I  used  to  sit,"  he  said  once,  "in  that  there 
monastery  in  Rangoon,  in  Burmah,  with  a 
yeller  robe  on,  and  I'd  contemplate  the  same 


The  End  305 


idea  for  hours  and  days,  same  as  Ram  Nad 
is  doing  out  there  in  the  dust,  which  I  don't 
see  why  Ram  Nad  can't  do  his  meditating 
somewhere  else  besides  up  against  that 
hitching  post  to  employ  one  able-bodied  man 
on  detail  to  see  nobody's  horse  don't  step  on 
him — Here,  Bobby  Lee !  You  call  your  dog 
off  the  prophet,  or  I'll  come  around  and 
spank  the  fattest  side  of  your  trousers! — 
Well,  by  and  by,  what  with  turning  that  idea 
over  and  over,  it'd  get  smooth  and  round 
like  a  billiard  ball,  and  by  and  by  I'd  get 
into  a  condition  where  I'd  begin  to  see 
things  running  round  the  ball,  like  the 
colours  on  a  soap  bubble,  and  them  visions 
got  mixed  up  with  the  daylight.  But  about 
once  in  three  times  when  I'd  got  a  vision 
pinned  down  so  I  could  make  it  give  its 
name,  it  was  nothing  but  Main  Street  from 
the  station  to  Babbitt's  Hotel.  That  was 
the  peculiar  thing  in  the  cultivation  of  my 
soul's  garden.  I  guess  their  wasn't  another 
garden  like  it  in  Burmah.  When  I  started 


306  The  End 


after  Nirvana,  about  once  in  three  I  fetched 
up  at  Babbitt's." 

"Which,"  said  W.  C.  Jones,  "is  a  proper 
sentiment,  but  it  don't  prove  you  was  onto 
Hannah." 

I  don't  know  either  just  why  Ram  Nad 
liked  to  meditate  against  the  hitching  post 
in  front  of  Babbitt's.  He  got  into  the  habit 
of  it  when  the  Ulswaters,  and  all  theirs,  lived 
at  Babbitt's.  It  was  before  they  built  the 
big  stone  house  on  the  hill,  from  whose 
porch  one  could  see  thirty  miles  to  where  the 
Violetta  lay  at  anchor  in  the  river.  Ram 
Nad  never  got  over  the  habit  of  the  hitching 
post.  He'd  sit  there  placidly  in  the  dust, 
with  somebody's  pony  jingling  a  chain  bit 
over  his  head,  and  somebody's  dog  investi 
gating  the  conical  basket,  whose  perils  no 
dog  could  ever  understand.  Zionville  was 
more  than  used  to  Ram  Nad.  He  was  one 
of  the  assets  of  the  town.  He  could  squat 
down  where  he  liked,  provided  it  was  con 
spicuous  and  handy  for  pointing  out  to  tour- 


The  End  307 


ists.  He  was  part  of  Zionville's  fame — he 
and  his  basket  and  his  dingy  long  beard, 
dingy  cotton  clothes,  and  brown  bony  ankles 
— a  sort  of  public  institution.  He  ate  and 
slept  at  Babbitt's,  or  at  the  Ulswaters',  or 
anywhere  he  chose.  As  I  recollect,  in  his 
later  years,  he  wore  a  Navajo  blanket  that 
Sadler  gave  him,  of  a  fiery  red  that  burnt  a 
hole  in  the  atmosphere.  I  recollect  the 
Chinamen  from  Chinatown  that  used  to  drop 
around  and  consult  him  at  the  hitching  post, 
but  what  about  I  don't  know.  He  appeared 
to  be  an  institution  with  them  too,  a  sort  of 
high  priest  or  spiritual  adviser. 

So  lived  Ram  Nad  in  Zionville.  So  he 
died  in  Zionville  by  a  unanimous  agreement 
with  himself.  He  left  off  breathing  one 
afternoon,  in  the  sunlight,  by  his  hitching 
post,  calm  and  harmonious,  in  a  Navajo 
blanket. 

But  I  was  speaking  of  the  burial  of  Han 
nah  Atkins,  and  what  person,  in  truth,  ought 
to  have  a  bronze  statue  in  front  of  the  City 


308  The  End 


Hall,  with  a  laurel  wreath  on  his  head,  and 
one  finger  pointing  toward  Hannah's  monu 
ment. 

Of  course,  any  man,  of  any  likely  town  in 
the  West,  advertises  his  town.  It's  the  sub 
ject  of  his  daily  conversation  and  his  nightly 
dreams,  for  it's  not  merely  a  casual  coinci 
dence  of  people,  but  an  enterprise  that  every 
inhabitant  has  stock  in.  So  far  Zionville 
wasn't  peculiar.  But  no  other  town  would 
have  grasped  and  gathered  in  the  possibili 
ties  of  Hannah  Atkins.  The  question  is, 
Whose  genius  first  foresaw  those  possi 
bilities? 

It  is  some  years  past  now.  And  yet  a 
tourist  on  the  Overland  train  now  and  then 
still  drops  off  and  asks  to  see  where  Hannah 
Atkins  was  buried.  But  Oh !  that  great  day 
of  the  Burial !  Reporters  came  up  from  San 
Francisco  to  attend,  and  Dr.  Ulswater's  ora 
tion  was  a  monument  in  itself.  And  Oh! 
the  great  days  that  followed !  Zionville  be 
came  celebrated,  suddenly  and  superbly,  re- 


The  End  309 


nownecl.  Fame  jumped  upon  her.  It 
proclaimed  her  the  healthiest  town  on  earth, 
not  to  say  the  most  singular.  There  was  a 
time — a  short  time,  we  admit — when  nearly 
every  newspaper  in  the  land  had  its  item 
about  Zionville.  It  was  enough.  Dr.  Uls- 
water,  William  C.  Jones,  Louisa,  Sadler, 
Ram  Nad,  all,  especially  Hannah  Atkins,  had 
a  period  of  limelight  fame.  Europe  and 
America  spoke  of  Zionville.  The  world 
stopped  its  business  a  moment  and  gave  her 
a  cheer. 

The  thing  was  done.  Zionville  was  as 
well  known  as  Uneeda  Biscuit,  and  launched 
on  her  career  of  increase.  Her  boom  was 
started. 

As  phrases  from  the  Declaration  of  '76 
have  entered  into  the  national  language,  so 
phrases  from  Dr.  Uls water's  great  speech 
are  embedded  in  Zionville  usage.  "Centrip 
etal  point  of  envious  resort,"  were  words  to 
be  remembered  and  repeated.  "Here  we 
lay,"  said  Dr.  Uls\vater,  "the  cornerstone  of 


310  The  End 


our  fame,"  and  Zionville  roared  simultane 
ously!  "He  means  Hannah!"  "Born  in 
purple  of  an  extinct  American  dynasty,"  said 
Dr.  Ulswater,  "she,  whom  we  here  deposit,  is 
henceforth  become  the  symbol  around  which 
the  affections  of  this  democratic  community 
are  gathered,  the  cynosure  of  our  pride,  the 
nucleus  of  our  respectful  regrets." 

The  statesmen  of  Zionville,  then,  saw 
and  grasped  their  opportunity, — Zionville's 
peculiar  gifts,  her  imaginative  reach  and 
supple  unity  of  action  being  with  them. 
They  demonstrated  this  fact,  this  principle, 
in  the  floating  of  a  municipal  enterprise, 
namely,  the  automatic  action  of  the  news 
paper  paragraph. 

Now,  no  one  questions  the  talents,  no  one 
grudges  the  praise,  of  Sadler,  of  William  C. 
Jones,  of  Louisa.  They  foresaw  an  auto 
matic  paragraph  in  Hannah  Atkins.  They 
developed  and  put  that  automatic  paragraph 
in  action.  But  the  question  is :  What  semi 
nal  mind  first  bore  this  seed?  Where  lay 


The  End  3  1 1 


that  creative  spark  of  genius,  of  forecasting 
insight  and  prophetic  statemanship  ?  Who 
first  conceived  the  idea  ? 

Susannah  and  I  have  long  been  married. 
We  still  occupy  each  other's  horizon.  In 
the  same  way  Dr.  Ulswater  is  apt  to  see  Mrs. 
Ulswater  on  the  horizon.  She  is  perhaps  a 
superstition  of  his. 

And  yet,  whenever  I  hear  the  Burial  de 
bated,  and  the  idea  of  it  traced  through  Wil 
liam  C.  Jones,  Louisa,  and  Sadler,  I  seem  to 
see,  talking  with  Sadler  in  the  evening  on 
the  deck  of  the  Violetta,  a  small,  thin,  quiet 
woman,  knitting,  sewing.  Sadler  himself 
does  not  remember  what  she  said.  Probably 
her  words  were  few.  He  remembers  that  it 
was  there  certain  things  took  shape  in  his 
mind.  He  remembers  describing  Zionville 
to  her,  and  how  his  sentiments  got  lively 
while  he  did  so,  and  that  Mrs.  Ulswater  was 
interested,  and  little  by  little  he  saw  it  all, 
clear  as  a  map,  before  him.  Was  Mrs.  Uls 
water' s  then  the  seminal  mind?  If  you  ask 


3 1 2  The  End 


her,  she  says  "Fiddlesticks!"  If  you  ask 
Dr.  Ulswater,  he  says,  "Not  one  imaginable, 
remote  doubt  of  it!" 

I  say  nothing.  Only  I  see  Mrs.  Ulswater 
on  the  deck  of  the  Violetta,  knitting,  sewing. 

Even  so  she  sits  to-day,  knitting,  or  sew 
ing,  on  the  porch  of  the  stone  house  on  the 
hillside.  Below  lies  the  city  of  Zionville, 
busy,  booming,  with  its  trolley  line  and  elec 
tric  lights,  which  I  put  in  for  The  Union 
Electric.  On  the  further  hillside  stands  the 
Sanatorium;  built  and  managed  by  the  Uls- 
waters.  Mrs.  Ulswater  sits  in  her  rocking 
chair,  caring  nothing  for  bronze  statues,  lit 
tle  known  of  newspaper  paragraphs,  knitting 
the  welfare  of  her  fellow  men,  sewing,  em 
broidering  their  destinies,  mending  their 
misfortunes.  Forward  and  back  goes  the 
restless  thrusting  thimble;  the  fine  needle 
glitters,  is  gone,  and  reappears. 

So  Athens  lay  below  the  Acropolis,  where 
stood  the  bronze  statue  of  presiding  Pallas, 
leaning  on  her  spear.  It  was  an  idle  wea- 


The  End  313 


pon.  The  main  business  of  Pallas  was  to 
take  in  glory.  Looked  at  in  one  way,  it  was 
a  foolish  business.  In  Zionville  Mrs.  Uls- 
water  turns  all  that  over  to  Hannah  Atkins, 
to  any  one  who  can  stand  it.  Mrs.  Ulswater 
is  a  deity  from  Ohio,  and  does  not  care  for 
the  parti-coloured  bubble  of  glory. 


THE  END 


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